#and Rick is like doing his best to tuck Beth into his side without making it look like that's what he's doing
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sissylittlefeather · 1 year ago
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I know I said it would be awhile but then this happened...
A Very Quiet Life: Chapter 7
A/N: I originally was going to end the series in chapter 7, but then I decided to let it go on for a while longer and add some stuff. I hope you guys enjoy me dragging it out 😂
Warnings: this one is pretty fluffy with a touch of angst, reader is still a widow and there's mentions of her husband, also illness (vomiting), and mentions of sex, but that's about it.
Links to:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
I hope you like it! Let me know what you think. I love to interact! ❤️
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You can no longer imagine a life for yourself without him.
******
As badly as you both want him to stay, Elvis has to go home to be there when his wife comes home from her night out. He kisses you about a million times before he finally opens the door to leave. Before he walks all the way out, he steps back inside and grabs you one last time. When he pulls back out of the kiss he holds your face in his hands.
"I love you." Your heart stops, but in the best way possible. You never thought you'd feel like this again. And if you're being honest, this is deeper than anything you've ever felt before, even with Rick, who had been your high school sweetheart. "I couldn't leave here without saying it. You don't have to--"
"I love you too." He smiles and kisses you one last time and then disappears through the door.
Luckily, it's the middle of the night, so Mrs. Walter is asleep. Otherwise, she'd see Elvis punch the air as he walks back to his house. He's happier than he's ever been in his life.
When he gets home, he changes into pajamas and gets straight into bed. He's still buzzing with excitement, but he tries to calm down to an appropriate level for when Beth gets there. Just then, he hears her key in the door. Or rather, he hears her cuss and drop her keys as she tries to unlock the door. She must be drunk. He gets out of bed annoyed and goes to open the door for her. When he does, she stands up laughing and throws her arms around his neck.
"My knight in shining armor." He peels her off of himself and helps her into the house. She's drunker than he's seen her in a long time. He gets her to the bedroom clumsily before she turns and looks at him. Then, she leans in and kisses him full on the mouth. He's not sure what to do, so he keeps his eyes open and his lips closed. When she finally pulls back from him she pouts.
"Beth, what are you doing?"
"Why won't you make love to me anymore?" She slurs.
"What?" She plops herself down on the bed and attempts to take her shoes off.
"Why don't you ever try to make love to me? You used to at least try." She pouts at him again. He bends down to take off her shoes. While he's on his knees in front of her, she puts her thighs on his shoulders.
"Please..." He pulls out from under her and stands up.
"Beth. You're drunk. We're not doing this." She leans forward and attempts to untie his pajama pants. Thankfully, she's too drunk to figure out that she just needs to pull them down. He puts her hands back in her lap and goes to her dresser to get some pajamas for her. She tries to unbutton her blouse, but she can't seem to make her fingers work. Elvis undresses her carefully and puts her pjs on. He has the briefest moment of regret as he lays her down in the bed and tucks her in. Does she really deserve to be abandoned like he's planning?
He looks at her laying there and remembers the girl he fell in love with all those years ago. Then, he thinks of you and the love he feels for you now. There's really no comparison. Even though he doesn't want to hurt her, he knows he'll have to eventually. But not tonight. He climbs into the bed and lays as close to the edge as he can while Beth snores quietly on her side.
******
On Tuesday, Elvis knocks on your door a little before lunch time. You were beginning to wonder if he was coming over. When you open the door for him, a smile spreads across his face, replacing the worried look that had been there.
"Hey, baby." He wraps his arms around you as soon as the door is closed behind him. You notice he didn't mess with the toolbox this time. He holds you tightly and buries his face in your hair.
"Are you okay?" You ask, pulling back from him and looking into his eyes.
"Beth. She just..." He takes both of your hands in his and kisses your fingers. "She tried to have sex with me on Saturday." You pull your hands away and step back.
"Did you...?"
"No! She was drunk as a skunk. And I wouldn't have even if she wasn't." You look up into his eyes and try to figure out if he's telling the truth.
"Don't you trust me?" You put your hand on your forehead. Of course you do. Why are you acting like this?
"I do. I'm sorry." You're just so scared to lose him. And this whole situation is so stressful. Your stomach turns over sickeningly. "I need to sit down."
He walks you to the couch and sits down with you.
"I'm sorry. I guess it's just... the thought of you two... I-I-I'm going to be sick!" He gets the little trash can that you keep next to the couch in front of you just in time. What the hell is happening?!
He rubs on your back and then brings you a wet towel from the kitchen. As he hands it to you, he notices how pale you are and puts his hand on your forehead.
"Babe, you're burning up. We need to get you to bed." He scoops you into his arms again and carries you to your room. He lays you gently on the bed and then brings you another trash can. You know you should be humiliated, but you're too sick to care. You're just glad he's there to take care of you. And he does, for the rest of the day. He even goes to the store for crackers and soda. When he's not at the store, he rubs your back and holds your hair while you puke and brings you a fresh trash can when you need one.
At about 2:30, your phone rings. You answer it weakly and the school nurse informs you that both of your kids are sick as well. You turn to him pleadingly and he takes the phone and explains that he will be there to pick them up shortly. They don't even ask who he is; they just assume he must be a relative.
When he gets home with the kids, he sets them both up in bed with you with their own trash cans. He's a regular little nurse, bringing you all water and crackers and soda and clean trash cans. The kids finally pass out around 7 and you seem to have reached the end of your stomach contents. Elvis is in the middle of the bed next to you, stroking your hair, with Jane leaned up against his other side and Michael curled up at his feet. You open your eyes and sit up a bit.
"Beth...?"
"She left this morning. I'm not going anywhere."
"Good. Thank you." You snuggle into his shoulder and try to get some sleep.
At one point you wake up to the sound of Jane throwing up. You sit up frantically and find Elvis holding her hair and singing quietly to her. You take the trash can to the kitchen and put a new bag in it. When you bring it back, she's leaned up against him again as he continues to sing. His voice is deep and smooth and soothing. You stand in the doorway for a bit and take in the scene.
Rick was never good with vomit. And the kids were so little when he died that he really never experienced anything like this. Michael was just a baby and Jane was only 3. Do they miss him?
For so long it felt like you might die from the pain of missing him. Then it was hard to breathe, but you knew you would survive. Now, you're just glad to have the memories and ready for the future. You hope Rick might even be happy that you found someone who is so good to you and his children. A single tear slides down your cheek as Elvis looks up and sees you in the doorway.
"I think she's asleep." You wipe your cheek and crawl back into the bed.
"Yeah, she is." You snuggle up next to him and put your arms around him. "Hey." He looks down at you.
"Yes?"
"I love you." He kisses your forehead.
"I love you too, honey." You fall asleep in each other's arms, with both kids tucked in around you on the bed.
******
The sunlight is streaming in through the bedroom window and you feel movement by your feet. When you wake up, you realize that all four of you are still in the bed together. You go to shake Elvis awake, but it's too late. Both kids are up.
"Mama, Mr. Presley stayed with us all night!" Jane points to him and whispers excitedly. He hears his name and stirs. When he realizes where he is, he looks at you questioningly. Before he can say anything, though, Michael jumps on his lap.
"Do you live here now?" Elvis looks at you again. This is bad.
"No, buddy, I just stayed to help your mom since you were all sick. I guess everyone is feeling better?" You're weak from the lack of food, but the sickness seems to have passed. The kids have bounced back like only kids can do.
"Yeah, I think we're okay. Thank you, Elvis. That was very kind of you to stay and help us, but I think you can go now."
"Awww, does he have to?" Michael looks at you pleadingly while Jane continues to look back and forth between you. She knows Elvis is married.
"Yes, Michael, I'm sorry, but I have work to do today." He ruffles Michael's hair and slides out of the bed. He slept in his clothes, but he sits on the side of the bed to put his shoes on. You get up too and walk him to the door.
"I probably shouldn't kiss you, huh?" He asks once the kids are finally out of earshot. You laugh.
"No, probably not. For several reasons." He chuckles.
"Can I hug you at least?" You glance back to the kids and see that they're busy arguing over what to eat for breakfast, so you nod. He wraps his arms around you and whispers in your ear.
"I love you, baby." You whisper back that you love him too and he leaves, pulling the door closed behind him. He tries to walk casually back to his house like it's totally normal for him to be at your house when the sun comes up.
Inside the house, you go to the kitchen to help the kids find breakfast. Once you get them both set up with toast, you walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. You need to eat too. You feel lightheaded from everything that's happened.
"Mama, doesn't Mr. Presley have a wife?" Shit.
"Yes, Jane." She sits next to you on the couch.
"But then how is he your boyfriend?" How does she even know what that means?
"He's not, sweetie. He just came to help."
"But you love him, don't you?" Oh, geez. How do you answer that?
"Jane, I..."
"He makes you happy. You haven't been happy since Daddy died. But you're happy now."
"Jane, baby, this is a grown up problem. Please don't worry about it. And, um, let's not tell anyone about Mr. Presley staying the night..." She nods slowly.
"Yes, Mama. I just think it's nice that you're happy again." She gets up and goes back to the table to finish her toast. You put your head in your hands and try to hide the tears that are streaming down your face silently.
Mrs. Walter is in her front window with a cup of coffee. She sighs to herself. She was right.
******
Chapter 8 coming eventually! (Maybe soon? Who knows?!)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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hournites · 3 years ago
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Oh my. Quite the assembly. I hope I have enough biscuits. Come, come. Do sit down. The tea is nicely steeped. It’s perfect, in fact. If I do say so myself.
↪ The JSA Meets The Shade | Stargirl 2x03
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granolabird · 3 years ago
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I’ll Always be There For You
Tonights episode was a doozy. BUT!! We got some solid Hournite moments so I’m here with a fic of Beth taking care of Rick after his fight with Artemis, and they have a conversation regarding Rick’s self-sacrifice habits. 
Warnings: Mention of injury. Lots of fluff :)
Post 2x06 so if you’re not there yet in the show, there are spoilers ahead!
Tagging @blackfemmecharacterdependency 
!! If you want to be tagged for next Tuesday’s Hournite fic feel free to ask :)
.
It’s late at the Pit Stop, but neither Beth nor Rick want to go home. Yolanda is long gone, having to comply with the curfew set by her parents, leaving Beth and Rick alone. So here they are, sitting close as they try to comprehend what’s happened. Things had been going so well, and then Eclipso had escaped, killing Issaac, Cindy, and possibly The Shade too. Rick adjusts in his chair with a grimace, his breathing labored as he struggles with the pain of his broken rib.
“Rick! Are you okay?”
Rick forces a smile onto his face as he turns to Beth,
“I’ll be alright, yeah.”
“Are you sure? There’s not much I can do, broken ribs need to heal on their own but I can double check that everything’s okay, if you want?”
“It’s a broken rib, it’ll heal in time. I’ve had one before, I’ll live.” “You’ve had one before!? Rick, how do you get yourself into these situations?”
“It wasn’t my fault. It was Matt.”
“Oh.”
A moment of silence, and Rick sighs as he sees Beth begin to fidget restlessly. She does that whenever she isn’t sure what to say. He’s pretty sure it’s a habit she’s picked up from him.
“There is something you can help with.” He offers, and Beth immediately perks up, looking his way.
“Really?” “I think there’s a cut on my arm from one of the porcelain shards from my fight with Artemis. Now that the rib pain is starting to settle, my arm is really starting to hurt.” He rolls his left arm as he says it, and Beth gets up immediately, sliding around him to look at his arm.
“Well, roll your sleeve up and I’ll take a look.” She gestures to his injured arm, and he forces back a wince as he rolls up his sleeve. 
“Jeez!” 
“What? Is it that bad?” Rick cranes his head to see his wound, but stops when it sends a jolt of pain through his cracked ribs. “Well it’s not that good. But you’ll live.” Beth provides a small laugh and Rick is glad that she still has the capacity to joke despite everything they’d witnessed tonight.
Beth walks over to the table and begins organising her first aid kit, grabbing cotton balls, rubbing alcohol and bandages and putting them into a neat stack.
“Doesn’t your costume protect you from injury? How did this happen?” She asks, and Rick sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with his good arm.
“The cape protects me. The costume is just as vulnerable as I would be without it on.” He explains and Beth’s head shoots up, her eyes wide.
“Rick!” Her tone is accusatory.
“What?” “You jumped in front of me when Artemis shot at me. If those arrows didn’t hit your cape, they could’ve killed you!”
“It was worth the risk. I couldn’t let anything happen to you. I’d never forgive myself if something happened and I could’ve saved you.” And that’s the honest truth. 
If anything happened to Beth, it would be the end for Rick. He would go off the deep end, let his rage consume him, probably get himself killed doing something stupid. She was the only person he truly trusted, the person who always had his back no matter what. The two of them had a bond like no others on the team, they grounded one another, and kept each other safe and sane. If something were to happen to Beth… Rick can’t even bring himself to think of what he might do to whoever had done it.
“Rick.” He had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t realized Beth had sidled up to him with her medical supplies tucked under her arm. He doesn’t look at her, not sure if his words had been too intimate. This is just like him, to go and say something that ruins a relationship, now things are going to be awkward between him and Beth and-
There’s a soft hand on his cheek, directing him to look at Beth.
“Rick.” She’s got such a deep look of concern on her face and it tugs at his heartstrings to see her so worried for him.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t need to risk yourself for me. I can fend for myself.”
“No, Beth, you can’t. You don’t have strength like me and Yolanda, or a weapon like Court. You have your goggles, and you're brilliant, but on the battlefield I worry that isn’t enough. I worry that it’ll get you hurt one day, and if you get hurt I won’t know what to do with myself.”
Her hand is still resting on his cheek, and as he makes eye contact with her he can see she’s formulating a reply, trying to find words to reassure Rick that she’ll be alright. 
“If I get hurt, then you’ll get me to safety. You always do.”
“Beth, we saw Issac and Cindy die tonight. That could’ve been any of us. I can’t get you to safety if you’re… if you...”
“I could say the same about you.” She shakes her head softly and lifts her hand from his face, kneeling to begin cleaning his arm wound.
“That’s different.” Rick huffs, trying not to jerk his arm away when he feels the sting of rubbing alcohol on his cut.
“Really? How?” Beth asks, giving Rick a side glance.
“I’m me. I can take a lot of hits, and if something happens to me? The world keeps turning. I’m more of a nuisance than anything.”
“Rick!”
“It’s true! I have no potential, I’m not going anywhere with my life. You, on the other hand? Beth, you’re destined for great things. Everyone loves you, and you make everyone’s life better. I make everything worse. That’s just who I am.”
“I am going to give you a stern talking to as soon as I finish bandaging your arm. I just need to focus, give me a moment.” Beth huffs, as she begins to wrap Rick’s arm. 
Rick can’t help but laugh, but his chuckle causes the pain in his ribs to flare, making him stop abruptly with a grunt. 
It’s a while before Beth is done, but as soon as she is she gets up, face determined, and pulls her chair in front of Rick. Then she sits so her knees are touching his, and frowns at him. Rick can’t help but smile a little. She looks so cute when she’s trying to be angry at him.
“Hey! Don’t smile, this is serious business.”
“Right, sorry, no smiling.” 
He still smiles just a little.
“Rick, we care about you. You know that right? He shrugs awkwardly, looking at the floor. “Yolanda, Court, Pat, Mike, me, we all care about you. You can’t just keep putting yourself in danger for us saying it’s because you don’t matter, because you do matter! You matter to us!” 
A pause, and then she says a little quieter
“You matter to me.”
He looks up at her, and there are tears in her eyes. She’s genuinely concerned for him. Rick doesn’t know how to react. In all his life he cannot recall someone being so worried for his safety. His parents were, once, but his memory of them is so faded that he barely considers it real.
“You matter to me too.” It’s an awkward confession, but Beth provides Rick with a smile, and so Rick smiles back. The pair laugh for a while, until Rick’s ribs flare up again and he has to stop. 
“So, do you promise not to recklessly throw yourself into danger anymore?” Beth is back to her stern side, and he sighs.
“Fine. But if you’re in trouble there’s no guarantee.” 
“Rick!”
“Hey, I’m just being honest!”
“I appreciate your honesty, but I don’t want you to put yourself in danger because of me.” Beth pokes his knee indignantly.
“But I will. I’m sorry but I will, You’d do the same for me. It’s just the way we are, I think.” 
Beth throws her head back with a disgruntled huff.
“I hate that you’re right.”
He smiles at her, and when she moves her head back down to look at him he sees that she’s smiling softly too. 
“What are we gonna do with ourselves? We’re a mess.” Beth says with a breathy laugh, as she presses her head into her hands.
“Keep on protecting each other I guess.” That’s the best answer Rick can provide. It’s not perfect, but nothing ever is with him.
“Right.” Beth is looking at him again, and there’s something there. Some sort of tension, and Rick thinks there’s something she wants to say. Whatever it is, Beth leaves it unspoken and pushes her chair back, getting up. 
“Well, now that you’re all taken care of I should probably head home. I don’t want to get back too late.” She brushes herself off awkwardly and then starts to pack up her first aid kit.
“Oh, yeah. I’m staying here for the night, but I can give you a ride home, if you want?” Rick offers.
“Can you even drive with broken ribs?”
“Probably. It’s not that far anyway.”
“Alright, but if it hurts too much I can walk.”
Rick nods in agreement, and takes as deep of a breath as he can before he stands, powering through the pain. Then, he and Beth make their way down the stairs to his car. She hops into the passenger seat, and he slides into the driver seat. It’s quiet as he puts the key into the ignition, neither of them quite sure what to say after the deep conversation they’d just had. As the car begins to move, Beth speaks up.
“Thanks, Rick.”
“For giving you a ride? I always do that, you don’t need to thank me every time.”
“For everything. For saving me, for being there for me, and for giving me a ride. And for every other thing you’ve done to keep me together through everything. Just… thanks.”
“Oh. Uh, you're welcome I guess? It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for me.”
“You always say that, but that’s not the point. The point is, over the last little while you’ve done so much to help me. And I’m grateful for that. You don’t need to compare yourself to me. Just know that I’m grateful.”
“I… Alright.” Rick taps his fingers on the steering wheel awkwardly as they pull down Beth’s street, and then stop in front of her house. 
There’s another moment of tense silence that is so common between the unsure teens, and then Beth turns and throws herself at Rick, embracing him in a hug. Rick is startled for a moment, and then the pain in his ribs sets in and he lets out a faint
“Ow. My ribs, Beth.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry! I entirely forgot!” She lets go instantly, and she looks him over frantically. 
“It’s okay Beth, I’m fine.” He chuckles, and that eases her worry. 
She still checks him over one last time with her goggles just to be sure, and then unbuckles her seatbelt and opens her door.
“I guess if you’re sure you're ok I should get going... Um... goodnight.”
“Goodnight Beth. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow! And if you start coughing up blood, or the pain gets worse, call an Ambulance! Don’t call me, I am not a medical professional. Do call me afterwards though, so I can make sure you’re okay.”
“Okay Beth. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
They share one last Smile, before Beth closes the car door and heads to her house, throwing one last look over her shoulder and waving to Rick. Rick gives her a small wave back, before turning around and driving back to the Pit Stop. After tonight, Rick isn’t sure what the two of them are to each other. There was some sort of admittance, he’s not quite sure how to explain it. It wasn’t a grand confession of love, but it was something. Something has changed between them, and all Rick can do is grip his steering wheel and hope it'll all turn out alright. Somewhere deep inside, beyond his shattered ribs, he knows it’ll turn out alright.
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New World CH. Twenty One
Title: Thirty Days
Words: 4155
Warnings: Character death, canon-typical violence
A/N: It’s the beginning of the end of an era. Hope y’all enjoy!
Previous Chapter - Next Chapter
New World Masterlist
Daryl Dixon Masterlist
The Walking Dead Masterlist
Masterlist
~~~~~~~
Six months had passed since the Governor and you were thriving at the prison. The gates had all been fixed, and the walkers were out of the yard. Crops were growing food, some livestock had been found, and no one had died in almost a month. You had given birth to a beautiful little girl named Charlotte and you were the happiest you’ve been in a while.
 You had also remodeled your cell. You took the bottom bunk out, leaving the top one for storage, and Daryl had found a better mattress on a run a few months before Charlotte was born. You did feel bad that you had a nice thing to sleep on, but everyone assured you it was alright. Maggie and Glenn had found one a week after you got yours and you felt a little less guilty. Daryl also found a thick comforter blanket and some more pillows for you along with a kids bed for Adeline. Charlotte slept in her little playpen right next to Adeline in the cell next to yours. It was a little weird not having your kids in the same space as you, but the privacy was welcomed with open arms.
 Waking up with Daryl next to you felt amazing every day. His arms would be around you and his face tucked into the crook of your neck. His hands gravitated towards your belly, even after you had Charlotte, in his sleep and it made you smile every time.
 “Mornin’,” he mumbled into his pillow.
 “Good morning yourself.” Shifting, you kissed him and pulled yourself up.
 “Where ya goin’?”
 “It’s the Big Spot run today so we need to eat. Come on and get up, sleepyhead.” Daryl groaned and Adeline decided to join you in your cell and jump on him.
 “Get up, daddy, get up!” Her knee caught his junk and he let out a low groan before laughing.
 “I’m up, princess. I’m up. Ya hungry?”
 “Yes!”
 “Then get dressed so we can go get breakfast.”
 “Okay!”  
 The three of you got dressed and you met Beth in the common area.
 “Good morning. Excited for the run, I see,” Beth teased as she took Charlotte from you and put her in a double stroller with Judith.
 “I am. You got any requests?”
 “Um, a new notebook and some pens?” Beth asked. “But only if you see them! Don’t go out of the way.”
 “Will do, sweetheart.” Waving goodbye and kissing Lottie goodbye, you walked outside with Daryl and Adeline. Stepping out into the fresh air, you took a deep breath and made your way over to where Carol was handing out breakfast, Sophia coloring on the ground next to her. Adeline joined her best friend and you smiled at the sight.
 “Hey, Carol. Hey, sweetie. Good morning,” you said. “Smells good, what’s for breakfast?”
 “Some left over venison from last night.” Carol handed you a bowl and Daryl a bowl.
 “Thanks.” Leaning up against the counter, you looked out past the fences.
 “You two going on the run today?” Carol asked you.
 “Yeah.” You stuffed some meat in your mouth. “Dean too.”
 “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Carol chided lightly. You gave her a sheepish grin, Daryl barely hiding a laugh.
 “Sorry. Dean’s coming too. We want to see if there’s anything we can use for, uh, hunting.”
 Carol nodded in understanding before leaning in slightly.
 “We ever going to tell everyone else?” She asked you.
 “I don’t know. The Council knows and everyone from our group does as well as Dr. S.,” you said with a shrug. “I think that’s all who has to know. Do you think we should tell everyone?”
 “No. People are still in a panic over the walkers happening. If they knew about everything else then it would cause mass hysteria.”
 “Fair point.” You turned back to your food and saw that Carol had put more in your bowl.
 “Don’t tell anyone,” she said with a wink. You laughed lightly and turned to face the tables.
 “Well, I’m going to sit down and eat. I’ll see you at the cars in a few,” you said to Daryl, giving him a kiss. To Carol you said, “Thanks for breakfast. It’s delicious.”
 “Of course. I’ll also make sure Adeline gets to school on time,” Carol said.
 “Thank you.” You gave your daughter and Sophia a hug and kiss before going to sit down next to Dr. S. and Sam, the two of them munching on their own food.
 “Who’s focusing on medical today?” Dr. S. asked you.
 “Sasha. Did you need anything specific?”
 “Just the usual but I’ll take anything really.”
 “I’ll pass the message on.” You shoved the last of your food in your mouth as Dr. S. gave you a nod of thanks. Standing up, you went to put your bowl away when Sam came up to you.
 “You and Dean are getting things for hunting right?” He asked you.
 “Yeah,” you said with a nod. “Anything we can find that could be useful.”
 “I know you always are, but be safe. Please.”
 “I will be.” You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek before walking away.
 ---
 When you got to the cars, Zach and Daryl were already there. Beth was walking away and you heard Daryl mutter something about a romance novel.
 “What’s this I hear about romance novels?” You said, a teasing lilt to your voice.
 “Them kids,” Daryl said. “They’re so cheesy sometimes.”
 “Cheesy can be a good thing, Daryl,” you said, a smirk on your face. Daryl just rolled his eyes.
 “Sometimes it’s just bad,” he muttered.
 You snorted out a laugh and Daryl cracked a small smile at the sound. No one saw it but you since it disappeared when the others started coming to pack up the cars. You started helping and when you went to get in the passenger seat of the truck, you saw Bob walk up.
 “Hey,” Bob said. “I’d like to start pulling my weight around here.”
 “Bob, it’s only been a week since you got here,” Sasha said.
 “That’s a week of meals and a roof over my head that you’ve helped provide. Let me earn my keep.”
 “You were out on your own when Daryl found you, right?” You asked him. He nodded.
 “Yeah. I was.”
 “We just need to make sure that you can play on a team. That you know how,” Sasha said.
 “You know, he was a medic in the army,” Glenn said. Sasha looked at him then looked at you.
 “Your call,” you said with a shrug.
 “The two of you are tough sells, you know that?” Bob said.
 “You’re telling me,” Dean said with a snort. Giving him a glare and the bird, Dean just laughed.
 “Alright. You can come with,” Sasha said. “But you do as we say without any hesitation. That sound reasonable?”
 “Yes, ma���am.”
 “Let’s get going then.”
 She climbed into the driver’s seat of the car and you heard Daryl start his motorcycle. Dean got in the driver’s seat of the truck, Zach getting in the back seat. The mini caravan was almost at the gate when you saw Michonne standing next to Rick.
 “She’s back!” You said excitedly. Rolling down the window, you stuck the top half of your body out of it and waved at her. After she had waved back and her conversation was done with Rick and Daryl, she got in next to Zach.
 “Glad to see you’re okay,” Dean said once the door was shut.
 “Same to you.” She put her hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and you turned to give her a smile.
 “Did you find anything?” You asked her.
 “No.” Michonne shook her head. “You have any problems with some newcomers?”
 “Nothing of that sort. We’ve been lucky when it comes to that department,” Dean said.
 “What are you talking about?” Zach asked. You looked at him and shook your head.
 “Don’t worry about it.”
 “Alright.” Zach gave you a look, but dropped it. Turning to face the road, you leaned back with a smile on your face. Today was gonna be a good day, you could feel it.
 ---
 When you got to the Big Spot, you hopped out of the truck and lifted one of your empty bags onto your shoulders. Making sure your pistol was secured in its holster and your knife was strapped to your side, you made your way over to the fence where Daryl and Bob were.
 “The army came in and put these fences up, made it a place for people ta go ta,” Daryl said to Bob.
 “When we spotted this place last week, there were a bunch of geeks in here,” you said.
 “They was keepin’ people out like a bunch’a guard dogs.”
 “So they all just left?”
 “No. Listen.” Everyone went quiet and the faint sound of music could be heard.
 “You drew ‘em out,” Michonne said, impressed.
 “A boom box hooked up to some car batteries will do wonders,” you said.
 “Yeah. Now let’s make sure none of them bastards are left,” Daryl said. “Grab whatcha can, but be safe.”
 He walked through the hole in the fence and you followed close behind. You readied your rifle and walked through the maze of tents. Your eyes were peeled for anything you could use and they lit up when you saw a few guns. Slinging your rifle onto your shoulder, you checked all of the guns, happy to see that the magazines were still full and the weapons themselves in working order.
 “Find something?” Dean asked as he came into the tent.
 “Some automatics. They’re in good condition and still have ammo,” you said. Standing up, you held out one of the guns and Dean took it, automatically checking it.
 “Good find, sweetheart. I’ll go put these in the truck.” Dean took the guns and put them in a bag before heading back to the cars, Tyreese going along with him. You walked to the front of the store where Daryl was.
 You sat on the small wall outside and Daryl sat down a few feet away before banging his elbow on the glass.
 “Give it a sec,” he said. You put your chin in your head, eyes closing as the small breeze washed over you.
 “I think I got it,” Zach said after a minute.
 “Me or Daryl?” You said, cracking an eye open.
 “Both.”
 “Got what?” Michonne asked.
 “I’ve been trying to guess what Daryl did before the turn. [Y/n] and her brothers too,” Zach said.
 “He’s tried for, like, six weeks,” Daryl grunted.
 “Been wrong every time,” you teased.
 “I’m right this time, I just know it.”
 “Alright then. Let’s hear it.”
 “I think [y/n] was a teacher of some kind,” Zach said.
 “Of some kind?” You echoed, a little confused.
 “Well, you don’t seem like a traditional teacher. Like, English or history, stuff like that. But you’ve definitely taught something.”
 “You’re not wrong, but you’re not right,” you said. “I’ve taught people skills that I have, but that’s not what my main profession was before.”
 “Damn.”
 “Now let’s hear Daryl’s,” Michonne said.
 “Well, with the way you are at the prison and you being on the council and knowing how to track. You’re helping people but you’re still a bit, uh, surly.” Zach paused for effect. “Homicide cop.”
 Michonne started laughing and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle.
 “What’s so funny?” Daryl said, looking at the two of you.
 “Nothing. It makes perfect sense.”
 “Actually, the man’s right. Undercover.” Daryl looked at you and sent you a small wink before looking at Zach.
 “Really?” Zach said, surprised that Daryl was confirming he was right. You were doing your best to hold in your laughter but what Daryl said next made you lose it.
 “Yep. I don’t like ta talk ‘bout it ‘cause it was a lotta heavy shit, ya know?” Daryl’s voice was all serious and you laughed, causing Zach to look at Daryl.
 “Alright. I’ll have to keep guessing then.”
 “Ya keep doin’ that.”
 A few seconds later and a small group of walkers ran into the glass behind you.
 “You ready, detective?” Michonne teased.
 “Let’s do it.”
 You stood up and took your knife out of its sheath. Daryl took the crowbar Glenn handed him, Dean and the others coming closer. Glenn stood next to the door, you and Dean standing right in front.
 “Zach, you go stand with Tyreese and Bob,” you said.
 “But I want to help.”
 “This is only the second run you’ve gone on. Do as I say.”
 “Alright,” Zach muttered. He walked over to the two other men and stood next to them, gun at the ready just in case.
 It didn’t take long to clear the walkers, you and Dean making quick work of them. Once they were all dead and out of the way, you walked into the store to sweep it. You and Dean were a team and you quickly made sure there were no more walkers in the store.
 “Alright. What do we need the most?” You asked Dean.
 “Rock salt and silver. We’re almost out of rings and if we keep taking people in, we’re gonna need more.”
 “Okay. You look for those and I’ll look for anything we can use to make more bullets,” you said. “I know we have a fair amount, but it never hurts to have more.”
 “Let’s get going then. No time to waste.”
 The two of you went your separate ways and you immediately went for the dish section. You tossed anything made out of brass, iron, or silver into your cart and after everything was cleared out, you made your way to the weapons. There wasn’t any ammo left due to the army making camp outside, but all of the knives were still there along with crossbow bolts. Stuffing as much as you could in your bag then putting the rest in the cart, you made your way back to the front of the store.
 Taking the stuff and putting it in the back of the truck, you walked back inside. You had gotten all of the things you could so now you were just wandering the store, looking for anything that your group could use. Finding yourself in the kids clothing area, you pulled your duffel around to your front and started shoving clothes that looked like they might fit the kids, taking some bigger sizes too. When the bag was halfway full, a crash reverberated around the store.
 You zipped up the bag and went running towards the source of the noise. Daryl had beat you there and you saw him crouched down next to two fallen shelves.
 “Ya alright? Got any cuts or somethin’?” You heard Daryl say.
 “No, but my foot is caught, man,” Bob said back. You let out a small sigh of relief to hear that it wasn’t Dean caught under there.
 “[Y/n]!” Dean yelled, skidding to a stop. He saw you and wrapped his arms around you. “Thank god you’re okay.”
 “I’m fine, Dean,” you said, hugging your brother back.
 “What happened?” Glenn asked, coming around the corner.
 “Bob’s stuck,” Daryl said.
 “Everyone’s fine. We’re over in wine and beer,” Zach called out.
 With a grunt, Dean and Daryl lifted the first shelf and you helped Zach steady it.
 “I was moving too fast, man,” Bob said. “Ran right into the drinks.”
 “You lucked out, dude,” Dean said.
 “If this thing had come down the wrong way I don’t want to know what could have happened,” Tyreese said.
 “Let’s get you out and finish the run.” You went to grab the other shelf, but a loud crash sounded. Looking up, you saw a walker had fallen through the roof.
 “We should probably go now,” Glenn said.
 “Bob’s still stuck! We gotta get him outta there,” Daryl said. He rushed towards Bob, Zach right next to him.
 “You two get him and we’ll take care of them,” you said.
 More and more walkers were falling from the ceiling, your eyes widening at the sight. Some died on impact with the floor, their heads being bashed in when they fell. But most managed to fall without any damage. You spun the duffel around so it was on your back and grabbed both your pistol and knife, having both at the ready.
 “[Y/n]! Go!” Dean yelled.
 You backed away, Tyreese at your side. He grabbed your wrist and the two of you went running towards the entrance before being cornered by four walkers. Tyreese shot one in the head and you ganked two. The third one managed to duck Tyreese’s next shot and you surged forward to stab it in the head. Blood sprayed on your face and you wiped it away before continuing on.
 Metal began to creak and you looked up to see a helicopter starting to fall through the roof. When you saw that it was almost directly where Bob was trapped, you started running that way. You and Tyreese managed to get there right as Bob got free and Zach was bit.
 “No!” You cried as Zach was pulled down by the walker. His screams were loud and you surged forward to grab him but Daryl pulled you away.
 “We gotta go!” Daryl yelled.
 The creaking of metal was getting louder and with a look up, you saw the helicopter fall. Running as fast as you could, you got outside the building and to the cars. Most of the supplies people had gotten belonged to the walkers now, but some of the group had managed to shove things in bags before shit hit the fan.
 When you were safely inside the truck, you leaned back and let out a sigh. It had been thirty days since someone had died on a run and you wished it had been longer.
 You were wrong about it being a good day.
 ---
 When you got back, it was dark. You were silent as you helped bring the hunting gear to your little shed. Dumping the metal, you got to work sorting them out and putting them in their own little piles. You were so submerged in your work, you didn’t notice someone had come inside the shed until the door closed. Turning around, you saw Beth standing there.
 “Beth,” you said quietly.
 She said nothing but ran into your arms. Her body was shaking and you could tell that she was holding back tears. Shushing her softly, you held her tight, rubbing your hand up and down her back.
 “He’s gone and I never even said goodbye,” Beth whispered after a few moments.
 “Who told you?” You asked her.
 “Daryl.”
 “Did you want to go back? Or did you want to stay here for a while?”
 “Can I stay with you?”
 “Of course you can, sweetheart. If you’re up to it, I could use some help sorting these.” Holding up a cast iron skillet, you waved it slightly.
 “I think I can help. What do you need me to do?”
 You smiled brightly before explaining what you were doing to Beth. It took little over an hour for you to sort everything and prepare it to be melted down in the morning. You could have done more, but you saw Beth yawning and trying to stay awake.
 “I think it’s time for bed,” you said. Beth nodded sleepily and you wrapped an arm around her to keep her from falling.
 When you got to her cell, she was asleep on her feet. Taking her boots off and putting a blanket on top of her, you kissed her forehead before leaving the cell. Quietly walking up the stairs, you got to your own cell to find Daryl waiting for you. He opened his arms and you fell into them.
 “I saw that Beth went ta ya after I told her what happened,” Daryl said after a moment.
 “She did. She seemed pretty shaken up about it but I took her mind off of things with menial tasks.” You sighed and shoved your face in Daryl’s chest. “He didn’t deserve a death like that.”
 “He didn’t. But it happened and we can’t do nothin’ ta change it.” Daryl kissed the top of your head and held you tighter.
 “I know.”
 ---
 When Rick’s alarm went off, you woke with a start. Daryl had already left for his watch shift and you groaned quietly, you covered your head with your blanket before throwing it away completely to get dressed. Putting on a stained tank-top and an old flannel, you pulled on a tattered pair of jeans and your boots. Walking out of your cell, you grabbed a protein bar before making your way down to the shed with Dean. Shoving the rest of the bar in your mouth and rolling up your sleeves, you started working.
 About ten minutes after you got the fire going and when you were about to put the metal in, you heard gunshots. Head whipping around, you made eye contact with Dean before rushing to the main buildings. Dean put out the fire and ran after you.
 “Help!” You heard Lizzie yell. “Come quick!”
 “Carol, what the hell is going on?” You said, panting slightly from running.
 “I have no idea!”
 “There’s walkers in D!” Glenn yelled, running up to you.
 “What about C?” Rick asked.
 “Where are the kids?” You said, eyes widening in fear.
 “It’s clear!” Sasha said. “We locked the gates to the tombs.”
 “It ain’t a breach!” Daryl said.
 “Hershel’s on guard and watching the kids.” Sam came up to you and Dean before everyone went running to D-Block.
 When you got there, everything was in chaos. A man was shooting a shotgun and Daryl quickly took it from him, handing it to Rick. You were quick to save a child from getting bit, stabbing the walker in the head before picking her up and handing her to Sam. He got her inside a cell and closed it before going back over to you and saving you from another walker.
 “Thanks,” you said.
 Turning around, you saw a walker get behind Rick. Flipping your knife, you threw it at the walker, hitting it in the back of the head. Bounding up the stairs, after all the walkers downstairs were dead you checked the cells with Glenn. Daryl was close behind you and when Glenn was attacked by a walker, he shot it. Carefully making your way over, you looked down and saw that it was Patrick.
 “It’s Patrick,” Daryl said quietly.
 “That’s all of them,” Sam said.
 Your stomach was twisting at the sight of all the dead people you knew and you took a deep breath before going back to look in the cells. When you saw someone without a head wound, you stabbed them before moving on to the next cell. When you got to the downstairs and saw the people who remained, your heart broke at the terrified expressions on their faces.
 Suddenly, Daryl was next to you and you found yourself holding onto him tightly. It was short and you were moving up the stairs, Sam and Dr. S. leading you to a cell.
 “There’s no bites or wounds,” Rick said, motioning to the walker in front of you. “I think he just died.”
 “Awfully, too. Pleurisy aspiration,” Dr. S. said.
 “Choked on his own blood.”
 “Patrick looked like that,” you said. “He had the same lines on his face as Charlie here.”
 “And I’ve seen them on a walker outside the fence,” Rick chimed.
 “The lines on his face are from the internal lung pressure. It builds up, like if you shake a can of soda and pop the top. But imagine your eyes, ears, nose, and throat being the top.”
 “Is it a sickness from the walkers?” Bob asked.
 “No. These things happened before they were around,” Dr. S. said.
 “Could it be pneumococcal?” Sam said, crossing his arms.
 “It could be. Most likely an aggressive flu strain.”
 “Someone had good timing when they locked him in,” Hershel said.
 “Nah. Charlie sleepwalked. He locked himself in,” Daryl said. “How can someone die in just a day from a cold? He was normal yesterday.”
 “There was a sick pig. She died quick. I also saw a sick boar in the woods,” Rick said.
 “Birds and pigs are how these things spread in the past.” Hershel looked at Rick. “We gotta do something about those hogs.”
 “Maybe we got lucky and these two cases were it,” Dr. S. said.
 “No one’s that lucky,” you muttered.
 “[Y/n]’s right,” Bob said. “Bugs like to run through close quarters. Doesn’t get any closer than this.”
 “All of us here, we’ve been exposed to it.”
 You looked around at the people next to you and bit your lip in worry.
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whirlybirbs · 5 years ago
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--- tenderly feral. 
summary: you’re used to being alone. daryl, somehow, changes that. rating: t for violence, references to murder/assault/loss, s5 spoilers, if that matters. word count: 3.7k a/n: this is set mid-season 5. right before alexandria. listen, i know, i’m catching up, okay???? anyways, i wrote for daryl when i was literally in high-school and i think this is very fitting. it all comes full circle. this will, no doubt, be a series.                                             ✘      next chapter.      ✘
You’re quiet. Mean lookin’ and awfully quiet.
Daryl Dixon reasons you’re a little bit like a feral cat - used to bein’ outdoors and used to bein’ mean, mean as can be. You’re not used to havin’ others around. It shows.
You don’t trust easy.
And that’s fine, because neither does he.
You’re with the group a little over a week when you finally speak more than a word -- it’s to Rick, saying you saw some formula and diapers and baby blankets in one of the neighborhoods South of Atlanta. It’s a metaphorical olive branch; offered in favor for the next-to-nothing meals and for the church roof over your head...
For saving your skin.
Your voice is a rasp, sounds like you haven’t used it in months. The words fall past your lips slow and sluggish.
(Daryl wonders if it’s from the bruises around your neck, from the hands that had been strangling you into the pavement with no remorse when he found you.)
You’re trying to say thank you. The words don’t want come out just yet. Daryl knows how that feels. So you offer a supply run instead. Risk your neck. Show your thanks.
You figure you won’t be around for long. Might as well make it worth it.
The archer squints into the evening sky as a sunset flare draws a halo around your head.
“Didn’t think t’ grab it, then,” you mutter, lips ghosting over the words as your worried eyes bounce to the cooing infant in the officer’s arms. You toe the dirt, “But, I could grab it now. She’s gotta eat.”
Rick doesn’t trust easy anymore -- not to say he ever really did before.
His eyes narrow, a blink of a microexpression that’s laced with skepticism and curiosity and a vague sense of doubt. Despite it, you stand unwavered as Daryl watches through the mousy strands of his hair from the front steps of the church. After a moment, Rick nods.
His eyes dart across the wooded horizon.
“Tomorrow,” Rick says finally, “Sun’s gonna set soon.”
Daryl watches as you nod, shuffle past, and retreat to the church. His stare follows the steps of your well-worn boots, blue eyes watching as you weave through the open doors to the Lord’s home silently.
You’re a feral cat tryna be an indoor cat.
But you’re tryin’.
Daryl guesses that’s all that matters.
✘ 
You prefer being alone.
It’s just... better that way.
You leave before sun-up and come back that afternoon with a carload of supplies -- Daryl isn’t sure how you managed to swing it, heading out to the ‘burbs with the van alone like that, but you do and there’s grub in everyone’s belly at the end of the night because of it.
It’s either sheer stupidity or pure survival and Daryl isn’t sure which one.
That night, he watches from a few pews back as you fork a can of brown bread into your mouth while you shake a bottle of formula.
In the lights of the candles, you seem softer -- maybe not so mean.
You present the bottle to Carl, lips quirked up into a ghost of a smile as the boy thanks you and bounces his sister on his hip.
(The boy reminds you of someone you knew once, then, and the formula hangs between your hand and his as a memory punches you in the gut -- you remember Boston, and Pennsylvania, and every loss along the way and Carl sees it before you can wipe it away. You try your best to distract from your gaping wound with a tight-lipped smile, but the burn of tears unfallen paint the boy’s face all sorts of guilty.)
“You okay?” he asks, eyeing the bottle.
“Yeah,” you whisper, ducking to the ground, “M’ fine.”
You ain’t. Daryl sees that.
The pew creaks as Rick settles beside the archer.
Silence runs like a river between the two men as you cross the church and settle back against the wall by the altar. They’re both watching, like wolves protecting their pack, and you avoid the weight of their gazes in favor of your canned bread and the small comfort of your corner.
You swipe angrily at the tears streaking your cheeks.
Daryl sees it. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he sees it.
This is why it’s better to be alone.
“If we’re gonna move soon, after we get Beth,” says Rick after a few beats of breath, “We need more supplies. Somethin’ t’ last us more than a few days.”
Daryl blinks into his can of beans, knee bouncing.
“Yeah.”
“She offered to show us the spot. Go with her tomorrow.”
Daryl nods, tipping back the can into his mouth as Rick pats his knee.
“I’m comin’ with you.”
You go rigid, stiff as a board, when Daryl’s voice passes behind you. Swallowing, you bend at the knee and move to finish shoving a few balled up bags and some water into your camping pack -- when you stay silent, his boots carry him closer, and you’re left to eye the lopsided laces staring back at you.
“Y’ alright with that?”
“Don’t matter,” you say, words biting a bit more than you mean for them to; you’re quick to stand, hauling your pack onto your back, “... Does it?”
Suddenly, the world swings on a hinge and like a screen door slamming open, you’re locked in the orbit of Daryl Dixon. The shiner around his eye makes him look meaner than he is. Blue eyes are soft, betraying him even more. You stand straight, unwavering, as the archer wets his lips and breaks away. He toes the ground and swings his crossbow over his left shoulder as he squints along the tree line.
Mean, mean, mean. Ain’t you?
“No,” he breathes, “It don’t.”
The ride to the South End ‘burbs is quiet.
You forfeited the keys without a fight, swinging yourself into the passagender side of the van -- your fingers had clawed at grime and scum lining the windshield only to yield nothing but smears. So, as the van rolls on, you opt to look out the window.
The view, however desolate and broken, is nice.
After a long stretch of road and a longer stretch of silence, Daryl finally speaks. Blue eyes dart to the curve of your face. They linger, following the column of your throat.
“... Those bruises are healin’ up good.”
He eyes the road with a noted sense of worry.
Again, you seem to stiffen and turn inward. Your hands fly to your neck, pushing the collar of your worn flannel up. The brush of your fingers spurs a wince that flashes into a snarl. Daryl sees it.
Mean.
You plant a boot on the dashboard and cross your arms.
And that’s that.
You manage to stock up three bags of cans, water, and medical supplies.
It’s not much but it’s something, and as you drag yourself up into the van, you catch Daryl’s figure in the rearview. There’s a cigarette hanging between his lips, fingers prying at a bag in the trunk -- the smell of nicotine is better than that of the upholstery which has seemingly soaked up all the residue from it’s previous owner.
The stain in the carpet is big.
Your eyes fleet up from aforementioned stain, connecting with Daryl’s like keys fitting a lock.
He’s always watching.
You reason Daryl Dixon is a bit like a fighting dog -- nasty when he needs to be and fiercely protective. It shows.
He doesn’t trust easy.
And that’s fine, because neither do you.
(Even when if he is the man who’d saved your fucking life. Even if Daryl Dixon is the man who’d pried another living being off you -- even if he’d tackled that fuck to the ground while you gasped for air and stars swam in your eyes. Bloodied fingers clawed at the hot pavement and the world swayed, but you could breathe and you were alive, even if the sound of a tinkering belt and violent threats still sat in your ears.)
Trustin’ ain’t easy now-a-days.
The dance of candlelight carves his face into something softer -- you swear you can see the play of a smile there when Carol talks; as the grey-haired women waves her spoon and shrugs, you find yourself missing conversation for the first time in a long time.
Maybe you have been alone for too long. It shows in moments like these.
You tuck your knees closer and fork the peaches in the tin can with an edge of frustration. In your corner, you sit, far from the lull of the group’s conversation.
But, it’s Tyreese who drags you up from the bottom of that pit of loneliness -- the deep baritone of his voice rouses your attention.
“... Where are you from, newbie?” he asks, words weighted with sincerity, “Where’s home?”
(You’re not a newbie. Maybe that lanky boy Noah is, but you’re not -- this is just something temporary between the running. This group... well, nothing is ever permanent anymore. Especially with the current state of things.)
The conversation holds itself still the lungs of those around you, stuck in their throats as Tyreese drives apart the sea and welcomes you in with a kindness unfounded.
Your eyes hit the bottom of your can. The sugar sweet peaches glisten like tears.
“Boston,” you muster finally, exhaling.
“Christ.”
A sea of murmurs. You can feel the distrust of Rick and Michonne in the tempered reactions -- as Rick bounces a cooing Judith, you’re suddenly feeling like the flame the moths flock to. You feel obligated to share this part of your story, after all isn’t that what people do?
You’re not sure. When you’re alone, you avoid the living like the plague.
But, despite your hang-up’s and hesitation, you nod again, move forward and sit up. You swallow and wet your lips.
“Been on the road for a long time.”
“How long?”
“Since it started.”
Daryl’s face flinches. You see it. He knows.
“Why?” asks Michonne with a pointed edge, “Why not... settle?”
“I did,” you say, “Tried to, at least. Then people died, shit fell apart, and... I kept moving. I had to.”
“Alone?” asks Rick, eyes narrowed.
You nod. Shame weighs your shoulders.
“Seemed like I was bad luck,” you chirp, “Real bad.”
“Well, you’re here now,” says Tyreese, “And we’re glad.”
You wonder if that’s a good thing, after all.
“Here.”
You narrow your eyes.
In his hands hangs a tube. The label is faded.
You squint up at Daryl Dixon from your spot on the church’s steps as a mid-day sunray curls right around his head like a halo. His face is set in something awfully serious. Fiercely protective. Like a damn fightin’ dog. 
(You wonder who holds the choke chain, who yanks the leash.
Is it Rick?)
You take it, confusion flying across your face.
“It’s some cream,” he says, “Carol found it. Said it’s good for bruises.”
You see the way his eyes fall on your throat.
“M’ fine,” you croak, “It... It don’t even hurt.”
“Bullshit.”
“How would you know, huh?” you bite, lips snarling, “I’m fine.”
“‘Cuz I been choked out before,” Daryl snaps back, looming closer, “Take th’ damn cream.”
You do, only with a lasting look of irritation. The moment the tube leaves his hands, he relaxes.
Like that, the air dissipates into stillness.
Daryl’s eyes roam the steeple. When you speak, it catches him by surprise.
“... Thanks.”
You’re still feral. But you’re tryin’.
You stay back -- you don’t know much about this mission to save one of their own, but you know you want nothin’ to do with the pigs in that hospital. You’ve met them before, out on the streets of Atlanta, and you have no intention of meeting them again.
The thought leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
And when there’s trouble with the walkers that crawl to the church, following the hysterical father, you barricade them in alongside Michonne without second thought -- but this turn of fate dredges up this gut-churning feeling of bad luck.
Bad, bad luck.
And then, a fire truck full of friendly faces plow into your concept of bad luck and compounds it with a lie about a cure for all this and a busted trip to Washington.
And then, when you all drag yourselves to Grady Memorial and Daryl Dixon hauls a dead Beth Hershel out those back doors in his arms? When Maggie, the kind woman with the kind drawl crumples at the sight? When Daryl wails and Carol tries -- god she tries --  to calm them both down?
You’re left to wonder if you’re better off alone.
If you and your bad luck is better off in the streets.
Mean and awfully quiet.
The group finds two cars.
They park in the woods and bury Beth at sun-down under a sky of red.
You pass dirt along the grave and remember a prayer from long ago. It’s a croak on your lips but it means something to Maggie, who reaches for your hand and thanks you after it’s all said and done.
Grief sits heavy in Daryl’s gut.
He’s at the edge of the makeshift camp, nothing but a shadow. But, you find him.
In your hands is a can of beans.
You settle next to him on the log. The wood groans but Daryl doesn’t flinch -- his eyes art trained on the low fire that glows before his boots. The embers crackle. He inhales, sharp and fast, and you don’t need to see his face to know he’s been crying.
So, you pull your knife from your boot and crack the top of the can open. You gesture it towards him.
“Eat.”
“I ain’t hungry.”
Your jaw tightens.
Silence draws itself up between you and Daryl and dances in the flames of the campfire. You bounce your knee and clutch the can. That suffocating silence swells there, finally bursting when you turn to eye him with a careful amount of worry.
“... Who was she?”
You see his mouth move. His brows knot, then his face falls.
“A friend,” he whispers, “Family.”
You wonder what that’s like -- to have both of those with the current state of things.
(You had it once -- before things fell apart and you started moving on your own. You had a sister and friends and people who had killed for you by your side. You’d killed for them, too. You would, again. Maybe you’d kill for Daryl, too. A part of you already feels like you owe him.)
“I know it’s not my place,” you say slowly, “But she’d want you t’ eat.”
Daryl’s eyes rocket upwards, catching your expression.
He knows your right.
He takes the can and your fingers brush.
“... Thanks.”
And that’s that.
Tyreese.
You liked him.
You forgot how this felt. Loss. Grief. Death.
You stand shoulder to shoulder beside Daryl over a shallow grave.
And you cry.
It’s bad.
You’re bad -- you’re nothing but bad luck and all this? This is how it’s gonna end.
A thousand miles, and for what? To starve on a Georgia highway?
Behind you, like a ball and chain, is a horde of walkers that snarl and gasp and trudge along, waiting for one of you to drop. You wonder if you’ll go first -- if your last meal will really be peaches. Canned fuckin’ peaches.
You swallow, swipe at your clammy skin, and keep moving.
For the first time in a long time, you’re tired of moving. Tired of running. Of being alone.
For the first time in a long time, you glad you’re not alone.
Daryl is lingering behind you. His steps are sluggish and his crossbow is slung across his waist, posed and ready. The vest around his shoulders is soaked, tattered shirt darkened with sweat. You’re no better. The hair along your neck clings with reckless abandon. You spare him a glance, then slow up to match his pace.
You’re quiet for a while, steps falling in with his.
And then you speak.
“I never said thanks.”
Daryl’s face gives nothing away. HIs eyes, though, dart to you for a moment. When you speak, your eyes are off on the horizon.
“That guy was gonna kill me over a can of soup,” you speak slowly, ignoring the garrish flashes of the scene that unfolds behind your eyes every-night, “And you stopped him.”
“... Had to.”
“No,” you shake your head, finally breaking to look at him, “You didn’t.”
He’s quiet for a few feet, then he sighs. “Jus’ ‘cause things have got t’ shit don’t mean people don’t matter.”
Your mouth goes dry. “I’m bad luck.”
“You’re not.”
“Ever since I joined up,” you drawl, movements sluggish as the horizon glimmers, “I... People have --”
“It ain’t your fault.”
His words are firm, backed by a rush of anger that knocks you for a loop. Daryl staggers along, face set in some unreadable way that leaves you wondering what he really thinks -- he’s like Rick and Michonne. Pointed and distrusting, but there’s something else there.
“Tell the others I’m goin’ t’ look for water.”
He dips into the woods and disappears.
Mean and awfully quiet.
He doesn’t find water.
But when the skies split open and pour rivers of rain down on you all, you find yourself not caring. You lay in the street beside Tara and Rosita and you laugh -- peels of joyous sounds that mesh as the group scrambles to grab bags and bottles.
And when the sky roars, you and the group hole up in that barn down off the beaten path.
You curl up in a corner, far from the fire, as the come-down of the day seeps into your bones with the rain.
It’s Daryl who approaches, rousing you from a half-sleep.
He plops down against the hay bail, prompting you to stir.
You inhale and shift, rubbing your eyes. You blink at him, caught in the tired look on his face and the cut of his cheeks. He looks rough -- you haven’t known him long but you know this isn’t him. He’s a ghost of himself. Between grief and starvation, Daryl Dixon looks nothing like the man you’d watched nights ago back in the church, glowing in the light of prayer candles and good grub.
“You okay?” you ask softly, voice nothing more than a mere wisp.
“I wasn’t gonna save you at first,” he blurts, “Wasn’t gonna fight that guy, wasn’t gonna... stop him. Things have been bad and... I don’t --...”
His words die. Your chin drops.
“All this?” he gestures suddenly, “All this is just remindin’ me I’m alive, y’know?”
You turn to eye him, then nod. “Yeah.”
His fiddles with his fingers. Silence creeps between you two and your chest aches with some sort of feeling you’re not too sure of. Maybe it’s dread? Maybe it’s regret or... distrust. You don’t know. But it’s not nice.
“I’d do it again,” he leans, “If I had to.”
“Do what?”
“Kill someone,” Daryl mumbles, “If it meant savin’ you. I don’t regret that.”
You think of the sound the crossbow bolt made when it passed through that man’s skull. You think of Daryl, scrambling to help you up as a group of walkers creep in -- you think of him and Carol, prying you out of the thick of it and saving your fucking life.
“You don’t know me,” you say slowly, “What if I’m not who you think I am?”
“I’d know,” he watches you and you feel like you’re stuck in cement, “Everyone would know. But you ain’t bad. You know that.”
Maybe you do.
Again, the quiet rolls in like mist in the morning. You’ve started to realize it’s a part of Daryl -- he isn’t a talker, not like Glenn or Eugene. He’s quiet and reserved and he picks his words; there’s nothing that doesn’t matter in the way he speaks. It’s all him.
He spins a piece of grain between his fingers.
Your head rolls. You trace his profile with your eyes.
“M’ sorry about Beth.”
“Yeah,” he breathes as he drops his head back, “Me too.”
“... Think we’ll survive this?”
“We always do.”
His name is Aaron.
And you don’t trust him.
You wonder if it’s because you’ve met men like him before -- promising a safe place to rest your head. Promising safety and a future. Those men have all been liars, thieves, murderers.
(You wonder if this is how Rick felt about you. If welcoming you in with Daryl’s blessing was met with the same hesitation? Were you once nothing more than another Aaron?)
But... he’s not lying.
Rick notes your discomfort. He needs that. He needs the good and the bad and the ugly, the trusting and the distrusting. He’s a good leader -- you’re seeing that now in the ex-cop. 
That’s how you get shouldered in between Aaron and Michonne in the backseat of that shit-box Lincoln. That’s how you plow through the dead at 45 MPH, heart dropping into the pit of your gut as you haul ass out of the car and plunge your hunting knife into as many heads as you can. Your survival instinct is feverish and terrified and full of desperation; as you roar, Rick watches.
In a flash, something settles between you both.
You book it through the woods and hit Route 16 with no RV in sight.
No Carl, no Judith... No Daryl.
The moon casts inky shadows in your wake.
No time to stop. You all keep moving.
Rick whistles. He gives a call.
There’s a response.
You carry yourself into a collision of an embrace -- Daryl curses, quietly, as he sways on his feet and grips your shoulders tightly. In the light of the alleyway, it’s just the two of you; the moment passes like a ship in the night and peel yourself away with a broken laugh.
“You okay?” he asks, stepping back and gauging you. The touch makes his skin hot.
“Fine,” you croak, “You?”
“Never better.”
Alexandria is what they call it.
In the cramped back of the RV, you spare Daryl a look as the vehicle rolls to a stop and Abrahram announces the arrival with a measured level of reservation.
You can’t remember the last time you stopped running.
No better time than the present.
After all, you’re just a feral cat, tryin’ its best to be indoors.
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thewalkingdead-fan101 · 4 years ago
Text
In This Hell Daryl Dixon x Reader part 8/??
Hey guys!  I’m so excited to post part 8!  I’m sorry about such a large gap in between parts, I'm currently trying to figure out a schedule for posting parts. I hope you're all safe and well. Thank you for being patient and so lovely!
Warnings- Slow burn, Light smut?, General Walking Dead stuff, Blood, Gore, Swearing, Shane being sus.
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The drive home seemed shorter than the drive there, passing the familiar mailboxes and other run down buildings.
The minute we arrived back, Shane left to speak with Rick, furthering their search for Sophia.
I started grabbing the Medical supplies that we had found scattered throughout the houses and took them into the farm house.
I knocked on the wooden doorframe, waiting for someone to answer, Patricia’s head popping around the corner.
“Good morning (Y/n).” “Morning, I just thought that since we’re all low on supplies that I would bring you some stuff. Shane and I went out this morning and came across all of this medical stuff, even found a full first aid kit.” I chuckled as she opened the door, stepping aside for me.
“Oh thank you, just sit it all on the dining table.” She smiled, grabbing one of the bags from me, leading the way through the house into the dining room.
“Did you guys find much?” “We found some things, a bunch of medical stuff as you can see, some food, which is in that green bad, and some gardening stuff that ill take out to the barn now.” I smiled.
“No!” She paused, my head turning to look at her. She cleared her throat before continuing. 
“Don’t take them to the barn.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but not before she cut me off again.
“It’s too far from the house, not to mention the barn needs some repairs. I’d feel absolutely horrible if I let you go up there and get hurt. We have a little garden shed out back I can put them in.” She stated, walking with me to the car, grabbing the equipment out, briefly making eye contact and sharing a soft smile. 
“Are you sure? I honestly don’t mind.”
“I’m sure, now it’s best if you go sit down for a bit.”
“Pat-“
“Go on, get away.” She swatted softly.
 I shook my head as I backed away.
“It’s hardly fair that you guys do everything around here.” I try to argue.
“If you doing nothing around here protects gods little miracle, I do not mind. Now, go sit down and relax for a couple of hours.” She gave me a warning glare that had reminded me of my 5th grade teacher Ms. Gabel.
“Yes Ma’am.” I nodded, turning away from her and made my way towards the RV.
As the majority of the group were discussing the upcoming gun practice at the rear of the RV, I noticed Carl and Shane talking.
Shane looked Carl up and down, as if questioning him, and nodded his head.
I noticed the small movement and my breath stopped.
He had slightly raised his shirt, Shane’s eyes doubling in size. 
And that’s when it hit me.
This is a new world we live in.
A world in which to survive we have to fight.
Fight for yourself, your friends, your family, your people.
Shane barely even blinked. 
I picked up speed, my legs carrying me as fast as they could to the RV.
“Give me that now.” Shane firmly stated.
Once the gun was handed to Shane, he stormed off to the others, no doubt taking it to Rick.
Carl stood, staring at the ground.
“Hey, Carl..” I spoke softly, placing my hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s sit down, you can talk to me.” 
He nodded his head as he walked with me to where the camping chairs were set out.
I took the seat next to him, slightly turning to face him. “What was that about?” “What?” “Carl.. why did you have a gun.” “I just wanted to help..” “I understand, but guns are dangerous.. You shouldn’t have had it.” “I know.” “You do know that your parents are going to flip?.”
He nodded his head and resumed staring at the dirt beneath his feet.
I looked up to see Shane, Dale and Rick staring at Carl, making their way to the boy.
“(Y/n), can you get Lori for me? We need to speak to Carl.” Rick asked, nodding in my direction.
“Yeah.. of course.” I nodded, turning and starting the search for Lori.
The first place I had checked, the fire pit where she and Glenn were earlier showed no results.
I made my way to where the chicken coop was, to be met with the clucking of the hens, but again no Lori.
I checked her tent, to see her sitting on the mattress, head in her hands.
“Hey.” I spoke, moving the door to the side.
“Oh, Hey Honey.” She smiled. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, Im fine, just a little tired. Whats up?” 
“It’s Carl.”
She stood quickly, worry present in her eyes.
“What? What’s wrong? Where is my boy?”
“He is okay, he isn’t hurt.. Rick asked me to come get you..” “What? Rick asked you to get me? Whats going on?” “Carl had a gun.”
Her eyes widened, her left hand going to her mouth.
“Oh God… im going to be sick.” She shook her head
She paused briefly. 
“Where are they?” 
“”They’re at the RV.” 
“Let’s go.” She stated, grabbing my wrist and dragging me behind her.
She cleared the distance between the tents and the RV in no time.
Letting my wrist go when she got within earshot of everyone, walking straight over to Carl, taking the gun from Shane and showing it to Carl.
“Where did you get this?” She asked sternly as she kneeled in front of the boy.
She waited for an answer.
“Carl Grimes. You answer me.” 
She stood up, turning to us.
“How the hell did this happen?” She asked, tucking the gun into the back of her jeans.
“Well, It's my fault.” Dale began, slightly pausing as Lori’s attention snapped to the older man. 
“I let him into the RV. He said he wanted a walkie, that you sent him for one.” Dale continued.
“So on top of everything else, he lied.” She began. 
“What was he thinking?”
“He wants to learn how to shoot. He asked me to teach him.” Shane started, earning an ice filled glare from Lori.
“Now It's none of my business, but I'm happy to do it. It's your call.” He nodded, sensing the tension.
“I'm not comfortable with it.” Lori looked towards Rick, who tried to avert his gaze.
“Oh, don't make me out to be the unreasonable one here. Rick?”
“I know. I have my concerns too, but-“
“There's no but. He was just shot. He's just back on his feet and he wants a gun?”
“Better than him being afraid of 'em. There are guns in camp for a reason. He should learn to handle them safely.” Rick responded to his wife’s worries.
“I don't want my kid walking around with a gun.” She shook her head.
“But how can you defend that? You can't let him go around without protection.” 
“He is as safe as he'll ever be right now.” She started.
“Look, everything you're saying makes perfect sense. It feels wrong. I mean I didn't feel good about him following you out into the woods. And I wish I'd said something. I should've gone with my gut.” She argued.
“He's growing up, thank god. We've got to start treating him more like an adult.” Rick tried to reason. 
“Then he needs to act like one. He's not mature enough to handle a gun.”
“I'm not gonna play with it, mom. It's not a toy. I'm sorry I disappointed you, but I want to look for Sophia and I want to defend our camp. I can't do that without a gun.” Carl stood and walked toward us.
“Shane's the best instructor I know. I've seen him teach kids younger than Carl.” 
“He will be with Shane. He loves that boy and wouldn’t let him get hurt.” 
Lori looked at me and I could tell that even though the thought of Carl having this gun terrifies her, but him not having one in this world terrifies her even more.
She waited a few moments and walked to Carl, resting her hand under his chin, making him look up at her.
“You will take this seriously and you will behave responsibly. And if I hear from anyone in this camp that you're not living up to our expectations-“
“He won't let you down.” Rick stated clearly behind her.
Carl nodded at Rick and answered with a “yeah.”
The sound of the old blue truck pulled up next to us, Beth, Patricia and Jimmy all inside.
“Now if you're gonna do this, you listen to Shane.”
“Okay, dad.” 
“All right? You two be careful.” Rick pointed at Shane and Carl.
“You coming?” Shane asked Glenn.
Glenn shook his head.
“I gotta help Dale clean the spark plugs on the RV. He said he's gonna teach me mechanics. I should probably go look for him.”
“You found me.” Dale called out from two metres behind him, startling Glenn. 
Shane nodded and got in the car, starting it.
“He's a good learner.” Dale called out.
I moved towards the car, getting in with Shane, watching as Lori, Rick, Carol, Carl and Andrea piled into the Cherokee. 
T-dog jumping in wi†h Shane and I, as we made our way to a neighbouring farm’s paddock, distancing the gunshots from the Greene farm.
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The sound of breaking glass, and the metallic ricochet of bullets hitting the tins and bottles that were sitting in a perfect row on the boundary fence line.
The loud echoes of the gunshots leaving my ears ringing, the slight scent of gunpowder present in the air.
Rick and Shane pacing behind us all, ensuring that we were all practicing gun safety.
T-dog, partnered with Jimmy, who needs as much help as he can get.
Jimmy was holding his gun as if he had just come from a bad adaption of a 90’s gangsta movie.
“Hey, come on, man. Don't give me that gangsta shit.” T-dog stated.
Jimmy, stood up, straightening his posture, moving his free hand to help support the gun, shooting and finally hitting his target.
His face lighting up as if he had just won an award, a participation award, but an award none the less.
 Shane gave him a pat on the back as he passed him.
“Did you see that? I hit it!” He exclaimed turning to T.
I watched as my brother zoned in on Andrea, stopping next to her and looking to where she was shooting, through his binoculars.
Helping her change her posture before letting her shoot again, which she hit the target perfectly.
Shane and Rick shared a laugh, and some small talk before continuing the pacing.
Lori was planted a metre behind Carl, watching him shoot, hitting the tin off the fence.
“Got it.” Carl smiled widely.
“That's a great shot!” Rick smiled back at him.
I look over to where Beth was aiming at her target, slightly missing it.
“Hey.” “Oh hey.” “Would you like some help?” “Um, I think im not doing it right.” “Oh, no, it’s fine, here.”
I moved to where she was and helped position her arms.
“Dont be scared, of the gun. You’re in control.” I paused.
“Just breathe, take your time. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
She visibly relaxed and pulled the trigger, the glass bottle exploding.
I looked over to see her eyes closed.
“Beth. You did it. You hit the bottle.” “What? I did?” She asked opening her eyes and looking to where the bottle once sat.
“I hit it! I actually hit it!” She beamed.
“Thank you!” She jumped on me, hugging me tightly.
“You’re welcome.” I laughed.
“What about you (Y/n)? You a good shot?” Rick asked.
“I was once.” I nodded.
“She had the best teacher.” Shane smiled.
“Yeah. Grandma.” I jeered.
“Oh really? Mind showing us?” Lori laughed. “No-“ “She wasn’t the strongest shooter, she probably forgot.” Shane shook his head laughing.
I grabbed the gun from Shane’s holster and shot three targets in a row, the sound of shattering glass echoing beyond the gun.
“Where’d that come from?” Shane asked as I handed him the gun back. “I told you. Grandma.” I smiled as Lori held in a small chuckle.
“Yeah, Yeah. Let’s go then.” Shane shook his head.
“Sure showed him.” Lori chuckled.
“Shane needs to be put in his place. I never had a strong shooting arm when I was a kid. Shane never tried to teach me after he realised. Grandma took it upon herself to teach me. Always said that a woman should always know how to defend herself.” “Well, your grandma was a smart woman.” Rick smiled, leading his wife and son to the car. 
Everyone following in pursuit, getting into the same vehicles that had transported them from the Greene farm.
I got in the car, and looked at Shane.
“Is there any other things that Grandma showed you?”
“The secret recipe of her butternut squash pie.”
“Is that all?” He laughed.
“Yeah.. yeah I think thats pretty much it.”
“That pie sounds good right about now.” T-dog chuckled.
“Maybe Hershel might let me commandeer the kitchen.”
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Shane had pulled the car over.
T-dog, jumping straight out in search for Dale and Glenn.
“Get out.” “What?” “Get out. Andrea and I are going for some more target practice.” “Oh is that what we’re calling it now? Target practice?” “Shut it. Now get out.”
“Alright. But please please please make sure that you wrap it before you tap it.” “(Y/n)-“
“No glove, no love.” “Seriously-“
“Plug your funnel then enter the tunnel.” “What does that one even mean?”
“If im being honest I don’t even know. But It’s on the same line as the others.”
“Seriously get out now.”
“Alright, alright. Calm down.” I raised my hands and opened the door, sliding out and closing it, putting my head through the open window. “Shane.” “What?”
“Love is cleaner with a packaged Weiner.” I laughed.
“Goodbye.” He muttered through his teeth.
I took a step back from the car, watching as he moved to where Andrea was waiting, letting her hop in and then taking off down the dirt road towards the gate again.
I laughed to myself as I made my way towards the RV and the others.
“Whats so funny?” Carol asked smiling.
“Nothing, just thought of a joke. Do you need a hand?” I chuckled.
“Sure, sit down and I’ll show you how.” She smiled.
I knelt next to her, watching as she continued patching holes in clothes for us.
Her work perfect.
“How did you get it to look so good?” “Years of practice. Ed used to come home after going to the bar in a mess, clothes torn and bloody from fighting earlier in the night.”
She paused, taking a breath.
“He used to say that it was my job to fix the mess and clean it.”
“Carol-“ “Oh no honey, im fine.” She smiled once more.
I nodded.
Carol and I sat for an hour and a half, her teaching me different stitches and when the best use for each one.
“Alright guys, foods ready.” Dale called out.
I stood up, and walked over to Dale, who had two plates set aside, handing them to me.
“I figured that you’d be hungry, Daryl would be too.” “Thank you Dale.” “Go on, go eat. Make sure He eats too or we will all be insufferable.”
I nodded my head and chuckled, turning around and heading towards the farm house.
“Hey (Y/n).” Maggie smiled as she walked down the front steps.
“Hey.” “Glenn and I are going for a supply run, im going to keep an eye out for any pre-natal vitamins for you. Is there anything you’re after?” “Oh thank you, not that I can think of.” “Okay, well, Daryls upstairs, I think he might be asleep, but head on up.” She smiled.
“Thank you.” I smiled as she continued past me.
I made my way up and into the Greene family home, and up those familiar steps that lead me to Daryls room.
I softly pushed the door open and walked in, smiling as I see Daryl sit himself up.
“Where have ya’ been all day?” He asked
“I, have been everywhere today it seems, Shane and I went on a supply run this morning.”
“Ya’ did what?”
“Daryl-“ “I don’t want ya’ out there. Why would he take ya’ out?” “He didn’t take me, I took him. Technically. But it was smooth, no near death experiences to report.” I smiled softly.
“Dale cooked whatever, this is for us. It smells good though.” I chuckled handing him a plate.
He took the plate and picked up the food, biting away at it.
“Quit ya’ starin’.” He spoke through a mouthful.
“Or what?” I challenged, taking a bite from the food.
He shook his head as a light pink blush rose on his cheeks.
“Are you blushing?” I grinned, watching as he finished eating.
He grabbed his plate and moved it to the side, grabbing mine from my hand and placing it on his own.
“Hey! I wasn’t finished- “ 
“C’mere.” He muttered, reaching over, pulling me onto his lap.
“Daryl.. what are you trying to do?” “I’m tryin’ to finish what ya’ started.” “Oh, what I started?” I grinned, my hands resting on his shoulders.
“Mhmm” he nodded.
“If I remember correctly, it was you, that initiated this.” “Was it?” He smirked.
I nodded my head.
“Guess im gonna finish it too.” He stated, bringing his hand to the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss.
I smiled into the kiss, both of my hands made their way to the sides of his face, cupping his stubbled cheeks.
His hands moving down to my thighs, picking me up and laying me back.
I pulled away from his lips and smiled up at him.
“What?” He muttered.
“Nothing.” I shook my head softly, bringing his face back down to mine.
Daryl’s hands roamed freely over my body, sending shivers coursing down my spine.
I shivered against Daryl, earning a low chuckle from him.
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Once Daryl had fallen asleep, I got dressed and took the plates downstairs for cleaning.
I left the farm house, making my way to our little camp.
Washing up the two plates in the tub we had set aside I left the two to air dry.
“I was wondering where you’d run off to.” Lori spoke up as she exited her tent.
“I just gave Daryl his lunch.” I smiled, getting off the ground.
“Thats not all you gave him.” I could hear the smirk in her voice without even turning to look at her.
I smiled and turned to face her.
“I don’t know what it is you’re implying Lori.” 
“Sure you don’t.” She grinned.
“How else would your shirt be inside out.” 
I looked down and laughed, quickly stripping my shirt off and flipping it the right way in.
“Lucky it was only me.” She laughed, patting my back.
“Ill give you a hand.” I smiled motioning to the laundry that needed folding.
We laughed and joked for about 15 minutes as we folded, the clothes.
The creak of the side paddock gate gained the attention of both Lori and I.
We looked up to see Maggie storming through, Glenn hot on her heels.
“Hey! We got your stuff.” Maggie called out.
“Maggie, hang on, please.” Glenn called after her.
Lori looked around, seeing who else was out.
Then she looked at me.
“Come on in here.” Lori tried softly, gesturing to her tent.
“Why? Nothing to hide. We got your special delivery right here.” Maggie started.
“We got your lotion, got your conditioner, your soap opera digest.” She named each item before throwing it to the floor.
“Maggie..” Lori tried.
“Hey, Maggie, calm down. What-“ I tried to reason.
“Next time you want something, get it your damn self. We're not your errand boys.” 
“Honey, I-“
“And here's your abortion pills.” She threw a small blue box at Lori, storming off, Glenn and Lori sharing a look before he followed Maggie.
“Lori?” I asked softly as she stood there in silence.
“Honey, I can explain.” “You don’t need to explain anything to me.” I stated bringing her in for a hug.
“I just wish you’d have told me.. we could’ve talked about it.” I rubbed her back. 
“I just don’t know what to do. I haven’t told Rick yet. I’m not going to until I know what I’m going to do.” She paused.
“Does that make me a bad wife?” She asked.
“No. It makes you a cautious one, and thats not a bad thing considering what’s happened in the last few months.”
“You have no idea how good it feels now that you know.” She softly laughed.
“I’d say it’d be a whole lot less stressful.” I laughed with her as we sat on the small stools near the table in the tent. 
The little blue box holding the attention of both Lori and myself.
“Whatever you decide to, I’m here to support you.” I whispered placing my hand on her own.
She grabbed my hand and looked over to me, a thankful smile on her face.
A slight movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention, to see Glenn appear at the tents doorway.
“I’ll leave you guys to it.. just come get me if you need anything.” 
“Thank you honey.” She hugged me.
“I’ll see you later Glenn.” I smiled, softly patting him on the back.
“Yeah, see you.” He nodded as I made my way through the tents door.
The familiar green car came into view and pulled up by the RV.
I couldn’t help but chuckle as I noticed the light flush on Andrea’s face as she climbed out of the car.
I made eye contact with Shane, him rolling his eyes as he noticed the small smirk on my face, continuing his walk to Carol and Dale.
“Anything?” Carol was the first to speak.
“Not today.” Shane shook his head.
“I’m so sorry. We'll cover more ground tomorrow.” Andrea sympathised with her at least.
Andrea was covered in more grime and dirt than what she had left in, signalling that they’d run into some sort of trouble whilst out.
“What happened out there?” Dale asked looking her up and down.
“Um, I-“ Andrea was cut off before she could even finish her sentence.
“The place was overrun.” Shane said far too quickly.
“Yeah.” Andrea agreed, sharing a look with my brother.
“Let's go get you clean up.” Carol motioned towards Andrea, pulling me along with them.
“(Y/n), you coming?” “Yeah, i’ll catch up, just got to grab Andrea a towel.” I smiled running into the small share tent, grabbing one of the towels.
I turned to leave, but overheard Dale call out to Shane.
“Shane.” “Shane, I was thinking, you've got that nice new ride of yours, plenty of fuel, more than enough for you to get far from here.” Dale began.
I furrowed my brows, not understanding where Dale is coming from.
“What, you telling me to leave?” Shane asked, annoyance clear in his voice.
“I know you've been planning to. Maybe now is a good time.” Dale responded.
Shane scoffed before laughing.
“Is this about Andrea?” He asked.
“I’m looking out for the group.”
“You think the group would be better off without me, Dale? My sister would be better off? Why don't you tell that to Rick or Lori? Their boy would be dead if I hadn't put my ass on the line.” Shane argued.
“And Otis's. You've been vague about that night, about what happened.”
“Otis died a hero.” Shane stated smugly.
“So you've said.”
“A little boy lived because of what went down that night. I think you ought to show some gratitude.” Shane sneered
“I wasn't there.” Dale responded.
“No, man, you weren’t.” Shane agreed, clearly angry.
“But I was the time that you raised your gun on Rick.” My hand instantly covered my mouth as I had heard what Dale had said.
“Come on. Jesus.”
“You had him in your sights and you held him there. I know what kind of man you are.” Dale continued.
I heard a sigh, the same one that I’ve heard my entire life, the one that Shane used to use when he was caught in something.
Shane stayed silent for a moment before speaking once more.
“You think I'd shoot Rick? That is my best friend. That's the man that I love. I love him like he's my brother. You think that's the kind of man I am?”
“That's right.” Dale answered.
“Well, maybe we ought to just think that through. Say I'm the kind of man who'd gun down his own best friend. What do you think I'd do to some guy that I don't even like when he starts throwing accusations my way? What do you think?” Shane threatened before retreating.
My stomach was in knots, knowing that my brother isn’t the man I knew.
I heard the footsteps retreat and decided to give myself a moment.
I took a deep breath, and shook my head softly.
As I took a step out of the tent, gasping when someone spoke.
“How much of that did you hear?”
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You’re Wasting Away Chapter 4
Description: The group spends the night in the recently cleared out house. Carol and Daryl end up as roomies. 
You’re Wasting Away
To Carol’s relief and, surprisingly, disappointment, they didn’t find any more walkers in the house. The rest had been taken out by Rick, Glenn and Maggie.
Daryl had caught her little frown as Rick announced the house to be clear. He had given her a smirk and she ducked her head while blushing deeply.
Rick went back to retrieve the others and Carol set about getting dinner started.
They didn’t have much left from Glenn and Maggie’s last run, but Daryl had brought back a dozen squirrels the other day.
Carol blushed as she poured some canned veggies into a pot. She remembered the last time she had cooked them squirrel. Daryl had given her an approving look and commented: “You always cook ‘em best.”
She shook her head. She was losing her mind about a silly little compliment that he probably didn’t even mean. Still, whenever his sweet side came out, she felt her heart flutter like a schoolgirl.
She needed to get a handle on this stupid little crush she had on him. She knew it wouldn’t lead to anything. They had more important things to worry about, like staying alive for one thing.
She could respect and admire Glenn and Maggie’s relationship. Them coming together in this world was a beautiful thing. They were young and had their whole lives ahead of them, hopefully.
She, on the other hand, was old, plain and unattractive. It had been drummed into her head multiple times by her late husband. No one would want her. Especially not someone handsome like Daryl.
Allowing herself to hope for something with Daryl was a waste of time and did her no good. While he was kind to her and had helped through the hardest time in her life, she knew that was where it ended. He just saw her as a friend, a fellow survivor.
She was broken from her self-pity by the sounds of activity in the house. The others had arrived.
She hastened on making their dinner, knowing the group was starving.
--
Later, they all sat in the living room, eating the food she had made. It wasn’t much, just squirrel and canned vegetables, but everyone seemed appreciative either way.
Daryl had even given her another smile as she handed him a bowl. She had ducked her head to hide her blush.
She settled down on the floor with her own bowl. She had not given herself as much as the others. It wasn’t like before, trying to give them more, but she didn’t think she’d be able to eat it all.
She jumped as she heard a clatter to her left. She watched as the crossbow settled on the ground. Daryl quickly sat down beside her.
She frowned. Hadn’t he been on the other side of the room before?
He looked over and there was a strange look on his face. She quickly realised what he was looking at. Her bowl.
“It’s plenty for me,” she muttered with a sigh.
Daryl shook his head and ignoring her protest, he scooped some food from his own bowl into hers.
“Daryl!” she cried.
“It ain’t enough!” he argued back with a hard look.
“I’m not going to be able to eat it all!” she groaned at him.
“Give it your best go,” he retorted with a challenge in his eyes.
She huffed and, with a glare at him, she ate her food slowly.
Surprisingly, she ate all of it. And it wasn’t much of a challenge after all. She set the bowl down and Daryl looked over its empty state. He smirked triumphantly.
“Told ya.”
Carol shoved him gently.
“Shut up.”
--
After dinner the group parted to separate areas of the house.
Lori and Carl were put up in the master bedroom. Glenn and Maggie took the one down the hall from it. Hershel and Beth took the guest room downstairs. T Dog set himself up on the sofa in the den. That left the last bedroom upstairs.
Carol wandered up to it and stepped inside hesitantly. She felt her stomach fill with butterflies at the prospect of sleeping with Daryl again. She shook her head. That sounded dirtier than she intended.
He followed her into the room silently. He grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and carried it over to the corner of the room.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a frown.
He turned to look at her.
“Picking a place to sleep,” he answered with a frown of his own.
Carol blushed as she set her bag on the floor near the bed.
“Well, there’s a big bed here…” she trailed off while she watched him.
His frown deepened.
“Yeah, I know. It’ll be good for ya to sleep in a bed again.”
Carol shook her head at him.
“This bed is too big for just me. There’s plenty of room for you too.”
Daryl’s face heated and he avoided her eyes. He cleared his throat.
“Figured you’d want the space to yourself.”
Carol smiled at him indulgently. She knew she was still bushing.
“I don’t. I enjoyed sleeping with you the other night,” her blush deepened. “You know what I mean.”
Daryl chuckled, his own face still red.
“Yeah, I do.”
Daryl sobered and nodded while chewing his lip.
“Alright, if you’re sure.”
“I am,” Carol reassured him with a smile as she pulled back the covers on the bed.
Daryl returned the pillow to the bed and dropped his stuff on the floor.
Neither of them bothered taking off their boots. It was too risky. You never knew when you’d have to run with no warning. It was better to be prepared.
Carol climbed under the covers. She reached down under the blankets and pulled her knife out. She tucked it underneath her pillow.
She looked to Daryl and saw him watching her. She ducked her head a little. She hoped she hadn’t made a faux pas by putting her knife there. It was just likely to bruise her hip during sleep and it was easily accessible under her head. She could easily reach up and pull it out.
“Should I not do that?” Carol asked him nervously.
Daryl jumped and stared at her for a moment before he blushed.
“Nah, it’s fine. ‘s a good idea.”
Carol relaxed and grinned at him. She warred with herself before she patted the bed beside her and gave him a teasing look.
“Come on.”
His blush deepened and he approached the bed hesitantly.
Carol pulled the covers back on that side of the bed and patted it again.
He slid into the bed and lay on his back. He tugged the blankets over him.
Just like the night before when they had shared, he was stiff as a board lying beside her.
“You okay?” she asked him.
He turned his head to look at her. He avoided her eyes.
“Fine,” he muttered, and turned his head to stare up at the ceiling once more.
Carol snorted without meaning to and blushed at the noise she had made.
Daryl snapped his head to look at her with a frown.
She ducked her head a little under the blanket, but she couldn’t disguise the humour on her face.
”What?” he questioned suspiciously.
” It’s just, the walker I killed earlier would be less stiff than you are right now…” she trailed off.
Daryl huffed and she watched him consciously relax his body.
”Better?” he asked with a sarcastic tone.
Carol hummed and nodded.
”Much better.”
They were both silent in the room for a long time.
Daryl continued laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, whilst Carol lay on her side facing him.
She wasn’t trying to be creepy, she reasoned to herself as she watched him in the dark. It would probably look that way if she were caught. With that in mind, she turned over on her other side, worried that Daryl would turn his head and see her peering at him.
She lay like that for a while, trying to will herself into falling asleep.
Perhaps the bed was too lumpy and that was why she was having so much trouble.
She hadn’t heard anything other than quiet breathing on the other side of the bed, so she could only assume that Daryl was not having the same problems as her. He was probably sound asleep. God knows, he needed the rest. He did more than most in this group.
She huffed in annoyance and flopped onto her back. Her body was refusing to let her have any rest it seemed. Maybe it was adrenaline from her walker kill earlier.
“You alright?” Daryl asked out of nowhere, making her jump.
She had been sure he was asleep but now as she turned her head to look at him, she could see the tired, worn out look in his eyes. He must have been laying there unable to drift off, the same as her.
“Just can’t seem to sleep,” she admitted with defeat.
He made a humming noise.
“It’s ‘cause we ain’t used to sleepin’ in beds no more,” Daryl spoke to the quietness of the room. “Happened to me all the time when I’d get back from weeks on a hunt. Used to piss Merle off somethin’ crazy. I’d be up, pacing all night.”
Carol smiled at the information he offered up. He never talked about his life before the turn. He spoke even less about his brother, whose status of life remained ambiguous.
“I never thought that could be why. I don’t think I can remember the last time I slept in a proper bed,” Carol replied, turning on her side to face him properly.
Daryl hummed again, and after a beat, he turned his body to face her.
“Hard to keep track of a lot of things these days,” he said with tired eyes.
They lay watching each other like that for a while. Strangely, it didn’t feel awkward and for once, Daryl didn’t avoid eye contact. He just watched her, his eyes darting lazily to her different facial features.
“There anything I can do to help you sleep?” he broke the silence with soon. He chewed his lip, one of his signature nuances that she’d noticed about him.
Carol smiled, touched by his offer.
She knew one thing that would probably help, but she was hesitant to voice it, worried about what his reaction will be.
He had been so open tonight, though. Maybe he won’t be as adverse as she thinks.
“Well, I slept really well the other night,” she started carefully.
Daryl watched her silently. It took a moment for his mind to catch on to her words. She knew when he remembered the other night. He blushed deeply.
“I’m glad you slept well,” he mumbled as he ducked his head a little.
Carol had to hide her grin at his shy antics. She knew he would think she was probably laughing at him. It was just simply adorable. He had so many conflicting personalities in him. One moment he could be this tough, not afraid of anything, guy and the next he could be this sweet, shy man who almost seemed childlike.
“Maybe we could try it again? If you don’t mind,” Carol suggested nervously. She didn’t know what she would do if he shot her down. She would be extremely embarrassed to say the least.
Daryl seemed to think over her words deeply. The blush on his cheeks stood out amongst the dirt that had amassed on them over time.
“Alright,” he finally said, his tone hesitant.
He looked confused about how to progress from there and Carol took it upon herself to cross the small distance between them. She pressed her hand gently to his shoulder.
“Lie down,” she instructed in a soft voice, trying not to startle him.
He gave her a nervous look before he shuffled down on the bed to lay on his back.
She settled herself down next to him and tentatively rested her head on his left shoulder. His body, like the other night, was rigid and she suspected he was even holding his breath.
“Relax, Daryl. We’re not going to sleep if you’re stiff as a board,” she urged, keeping her voice light.
He audibly let out a rush of breath before he shifted slightly, jostling her a bit. She didn’t complain though. She could tell this was something difficult for him.
“Sorry. Just ain’t used to sleeping with someone,” he said, and she felt him freeze after he spoke the words.
“Shit, you know what I mean,” he muttered with an exasperated voice.
Carol couldn’t help the giggles that escaped her.
“I know what you mean,” she confirmed, controlling her laughter to speak soothingly to him.
They both re-settled themselves and she noted that he was a lot more relaxed than he had been. His slip with his words had broken some of the tension.
Carol was amazed to find her eyes growing heavy quicker than she expected. It seemed Daryl was her lucky charm. She blushed at the thought.
“This helpin’ you any?” Daryl spoke in quiet voice.
“It is. Thank you,” she confirmed, smiling even though he wouldn’t be able to see it in the dark. She felt him nod against her, his response to her gratitude.
“Goodnight,” he said next.
Carol nuzzled her head further into his shoulder and smiled as she closed her eyes.
“Goodnight, Daryl.”
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elizaviento · 6 years ago
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Manipulation (part 12)
SFW – 2150 words
(FYI: This story is a sequel/companion piece to Assimilation, which can be found in the Rick Fic Masterpost link in my blog’s description along with additional chapters of Manipulation.  Or, you can click the #manipulation tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)
*****
Once I’d recovered from the blow job of a fucking lifetime, I straightened and cracked my spine in a way that made her face screw up in disgust.  Chuckling at her reaction, I tucked my dick back in my slacks and helped lift her from the stool.  My intention was to hoist her up and over my shoulder and portal to my bedroom until a thin strip of light blinked to life under the kitchen door. Then, the doorknob jiggled.  Fuck.
“Dad, are you in there?”  Of course, it was Beth.  She jiggled the knob again the way she always had anytime I’d lock myself away. Looking toward the woman I’d just defiled, I caught her eyes as wide as saucers and her skin sheet white.
“HOLY SHIT,” she mouthed at me, panic evident by the trembling hand she raked through her messy hair.
Placing an index finger over my lips, I pointed her toward the other side of the metal shelving, furthest from the door, where her boxes were stored.  Once she was adequately hidden in the darkest portion of the garage, I snatched the vibrator from the counter – which I nearly fucking forgot all about – shoved it back in the velvet lined box and tossed it in one of my junk boxes before unlocking and cracking the kitchen door.
“Heyyy, sweetie.  What’s up?”
“I saw the door to your room open so I was checking to see if you fell asleep in here again,” Beth replied, pressing her face to the crack.
“Uh – yeah, I did, sweetie.  Thanks for seeing – checkin’ up on me,” I placated, hoping she’d accept my response and be on her way.
“Okay. Well, I’m going to get ready for work. Breakfast will be ready in about an hour, if you’re interested.”
“Yep, thanks,” I said while slowly closing the door on her.
Flipping the lock again to make sure Beth didn’t decide to barge in the second I let my guard down, I made my way toward the hiding spot of my partner in crime, where she sagged against the wall in an awkward position.  Reaching a hand toward her, I helped her to stand and, when she was on her feet, she laughed and scrubbed a hand down her face.
“I’m going to help Beth with breakfast.  It’s the least I can do after blowing her father in the garage,” she said, laughing harder than was wise.  Catching herself, she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep it from leaking out of the garage to reach the ears of our family.
Feeling a bit flustered by her use of vocabulary – “blowing her father in the garage” – I shook my head before asserting, “You’re still a fuckin’ looney toon,” with a smirk.
----------
Taking a seat back at my workstation, my eyes were drawn to the junk box that I’d hastily tossed the vibrator into and I made a mental note to clean it later.  Not now though.  Now, my mind wandered back toward what I’d filed away the moment she’d showed her hand; the moment she’d admitted to me, in the most slick way possible, that she was turned on enough to come seek me out in the garage at 4:00 am.
She had to have used the goggles.  And, as a result, she had to have seen her counterpart with Rick D-79.  Even though I didn’t know for a fact that they were having an affair, I could almost smell it on him.  That crazed look in his eye when he’d spotted us across the street was a look I knew well; not only from using the goggles myself, but from Ricks I had encountered on the Citadel.
Come to think of it, Ricks who hailed from dimensions where she didn’t exist seemed to be the lucky ones.
The sound of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen ripped me from my thoughts and my stomach growled in response.  Even though I’d avoided her for the past month, I recalled keenly how good of a cook she was prior to my thirteen year departure and my body went on autopilot as it rose from the stool and made its way toward the kitchen door.
“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Beth asked her, referring to the full breakfast that had already been prepared, as I opened the door and casually entered the kitchen.
“Hey, girls,” I greeted, dropping a kiss on top of Beth’s head.  I suddenly had a strong sense of déjà vu before mentally shaking it off. Of course, this same moment had played out dozens and dozens of times way back when.  The only difference now was that it was playing out directly after a secret and somewhat taboo sexual encounter.  And, not surprisingly – considering what a creep I truly was – the thought alone was so fucking erotic that my dick instantly responded, pulling me to stand next to her as she continued to cook bacon and eggs for our family like some kind of proverbial moth to a flame; that sense of taboo egging me on and driving me wild unlike anything ever had.
“Food looks – smells good, Chicken,” I commented, snatching a piece of bacon from the plate next to the stove.  She shot me a sidelong glance as Beth stepped past us to pull the jug of orange juice from the fridge.
“It will all be ready soon,” she assured, tilting her body slightly away from me. Her obvious discomfort to my close proximity did fuck all to slack my rekindled arousal.  In fact, it seemed to fan the flames even higher.
“Good morning,” I heard Morty mumble through a yawn from behind us.  We both turned to watch as he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with Summer right on his heels.
“Kids, help your Aunt and take the food to the dining room,” Beth ordered, handing each child a plate.  Summer groaned but didn’t protest further as she took a plate of eggs.  Morty grabbed a plate of pancakes and pulled the syrup from the fridge on his way out.  Beth followed with the orange juice and a stack of juice glasses, leaving her best friend and I alone.
She was still focusing harder than was necessary on the eggs snapping and popping in the frying pan as I moved closer and positioned my body behind hers. Settling my hands on her hips, I pulled them back slightly as I pressed my crotch to the small of her back, suppressing a moan as that tiny bit of pressure and friction hit my cock just right.
“Rick, seriously?” she hissed as her body went rigid and her head whipped toward the entryway of the dining room.  Completely unable to resist, I bent to nuzzle the space behind her ear and tugged her hips back again, with more force, bringing her ass flush with my thighs. Then, I heard the faint sound of footsteps as Jerry lumbered toward the kitchen. Releasing her and taking my original position beside her, in front of the stove, I threw up an air of practiced nonchalance as Jerry approached and began gathering dishes and silverware.
“Hey, Sis. Thanks for breakfast,” he said, lifting the last plate of bacon from the counter before heading toward the dining room.
“What exactly are you trying to do?” she asked in an accusatory tone while refusing to look at me.
“Hmmm?” I hummed, taking a swig from my flask.  “Wh – what do you mean?”
“Never mind,” she sighed, lifting the frying pan to slide the last of the eggs into a new serving plate before heading toward the dining room with the others. Smirking to myself, I allowed my eyes to settle on her ass as she walked away.
----------
Breakfast was uneventful.  Well, uneventful in the sense that the usual banal conversation filled the atmosphere. Jerry blathered on and on, as he usually does.  At some point, I picked up on him asking his sister if she was still working on that freelance project and if she knew of any job opportunities at her old firm that he could possibly slide into.  She humored him, of course, much like an older sister would humor a kid brother – even though they were twins – and, once again, it struck me how different they were, not only as siblings, but as human beings.
As breakfast began to wrap up and each member of the family scattered to leave for work and school respectfully, I glanced up from the meaningless gadget I always pretended to work on while at the table to avoid conversation and caught her rising to collect the dishes left behind.  She looked utterly exhausted; the dark circles under her eyes much more pronounced than they’d been just an hour before and the familiar feeling of guilt settled in the pit of my stomach.  How likely had it been that she’d sought me out earlier because she genuinely wanted me and not just because she may have witnessed her counterpart fucking Rick D-79 through a pair of goggles that I’d recently enhanced to be fully immersive?  Not very likely at all, I presumed now and – if I were completely honest with myself – then, as well.  But, I took advantage of that situation, knowing full well that she had to be emotionally and physically exhausted to the point of eased suggestibility. So, what now?  Could I really be strong enough at this point to back down? Could I really be decent enough to not completely fuck with her head in the most deranged ways imaginable?  I’d already practically handed her over to be assimilated by a hive mind, made her face an alternate version of her dead husband without any warning whatsoever and given her the ability to live out the life of an adulterous counterpart – all within the span of four days.
How she didn’t already despise me was incomprehensible.
When I finally came back to earth from the pity party in my head, I was alone.  I had the brief inclination to seek her out but, somehow, resisted.  Most likely, she was asleep and I was in desperate need of it myself.
----------
A little over an hour later, I continued to stare straight up at the ceiling as I lay on my tiny cot in my tiny bedroom.  What a fucking waste of time, I thought as I flipped over on my stomach. Then, the squeak of the loose floorboard in the living room drew my attention as sharply as a dart hitting a bullseye. I hadn’t heard the front door or the garage door open, so it had to be her.  She was awake.  And, every ounce of self control I’d managed to muster earlier slipped away.
Rising from the cot, I walked toward my bedroom door and, just as my hand closed around the knob, a sharp knock on the particle wood startled me.  In the next half of a second, I flung the door open to find her standing there – her arm pulled into her chest as if she’d second guessed her decision.  Poking my head out and casting a cautionary glance to make sure we were alone, I curled my fingers around her arm and yanked her inside.
“I can’t sleep,” she said, matter-of-factly as I closed and locked the door.  I didn’t want to engage her in conversation.  She looked like dog shit and the genuine worry that seized me was unsettling enough to tramp down any desires my body ignited when I noticed her eyes settle directly on my boxer briefs.  So, I simply pushed her toward the cot until she plopped down on the mattress and continued to push her toward the wall as I position myself next to her.
“Up,” I commanded, tugging the rough blanket under her.  She lifted her ass just enough for me to pull it free and unfurled her body until she was lying on her back as I draped the rough material over the top of us both.  “Relax,” I instructed, placing one hand on her hip to encourage her to turn over on her side, facing the wall.  Then, I draped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.  Soon, the rhythm of her breathing grew long and even as the tension in her body eased muscle by muscle.  My mind began to fade in and out until that blissful, blank nothingness engulfed me.
Babies don’t sleep this well.
To be continued...
P.S.  So, that last line is from my favorite film.  Bet you can’t guess what it is.  :)
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darkmystress00 · 6 years ago
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In Living Color - Ch 12
A/N: Trigger warning...character death. Not directly mentioned, but alluded to.
Pairing: Bethyl
Catch up: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12
or read on AO3 or FFN
“What do you mean I need to hang back and protect home base?” Beth screeched from the middle of the corridor of their cell block.
“You gotta stay here and protect this area. If something happens and walkers get back here, we’re counting on you to keep Lori and Carl safe.” Maggie reasoned. Beth was seeing red (metaphorically).
“That’s just bullshit.” She spat.
“Language Beth!” Maggie scolded.
“You want me to stay back here because you know no walkers will get this far back. You don’t think I can handle it.” Maggie crossed her arms in front of her and gave Beth a stern look.
“I want you safe. That’s all.” Maggie looked at the very pregnant Lori sitting on the steps at the end of the cell block. “Between the three of you, you are the most capable. If something does get back here...we need someone besides Lori and Carl to protect this area.”
“But…” Beth’s eyes jumped to the haggard group behind her sister and she tried to make eye contact with someone, but so far everyone was steadfastly refusing. “Daddy, please…” She moved around Maggie. “I can help. I can do this.”
“Bethy, sweetheart. Look at Lori,” he replied beseechingly, “eight months pregnant, almost full term,  and if something gets back here she’s got to rely on her son to protect her. It’s a rock and a hard place of a situation…”
“I can do this.” Beth reaffirmed.
“Beth, do not make me lock you inside a cell. This is a prison, and I can do it.” Maggie growled behind her. Beth rounded on her ready to lay into her when she felt two hands settle on her shoulders. Beth turned again, her eyes landing on the grimey faded brown shirt of Rick’s sheriff uniform.
“Beth…” He started, his green eyes boring into hers. “I need you. I need you to protect my wife and unborn child. I need you to protect my son. I need you to do this for me. I won’t be able to go out there and do what I need to do safely if I’m worrying about them back here. Please, can you do this for me?” She wanted to argue, but knew, as she felt her stomach drop, that she couldn’t do it.
“I...I need a weapon at least.” She offered weakly. She was startled when Daryl walked up and handed her a knife in its sheath.
“Keep this.” He mumbled as she clasped the knife in her hands. She tucked it into the waistband of her pants and watched silently as the rest of the group turned and walked out. She huffed a sigh and moved to sit next to Lori on the stairs. Lori watched her with careful eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Lori said softly.
“It’s not-”
“I know. I also know you feel like you gotta prove yourself, and no one gives you the chance.” She smiled sadly. “It’s a special kind of helpless when no one will look at you twice.” Beth remained silent, listening. “I know it seems hopeless, like it’ll never come, but you will get your chance to prove yourself. Maybe not to everyone, but you’ll show them you are tough and can do what needs to be done.” Beth smiled softly and glanced up to Lori.
“Maybe.” She started but froze when Lori let out a gasp. Lori grabbed Beth’s hand and placed it to her swollen belly. Beth marveled at the rolling and movement coming from underneath. “It still amazes me, every time.” She sighed a little. “I can’t wait to meet this little one.”
“Won’t be long.” Lori said absently. “The more active he gets the more convinced I am he’s going to come early.”
“He?”
“Carl was just as active.” She supplied. “Of course I’m only guessing. Won’t really know until they come out.” Beth giggled and nodded before drawing her hand back into her lap.
“How was your first birth?” Beth asked.
“It was tough. I couldn’t deliver naturally. I started hemorrhaging and they had to rush me into emergency surgery. Carl was born twenty minutes later.” She smiled, “He was healthy and happy. That was all I could have asked for.”
Beth sat troubled. Lori had a difficult birth the first time. If she went into labor they’d need her daddy to help with a second c-section. Beth would be completely unprepared and might lose not just the baby, but Lori as well. She sent up a silent prayer asking for Lori to wait until the group came back. It was her best chance.
~~~
Daryl gripped the edge of the crossbow as he walked through the quiet corridor. They weren’t to the dangerous section yet, but it never hurt to be too careful. His eyes scanned over their little group. Hershel, Rick, Maggie, Glenn, Carol and him. Everyone had been decided to go. Everyone except Beth that was. She’d been forced to stay behind and guard Lori.
Daryl still marveled at the anger she’d been filled with when Maggie had told her she had to stay behind. No one had been able to calm her, except for Rick. Rick had been able to move in their and smooth talk the situation like she wasn’t being targeted for being one of the weakest links in their group. No one said it (well, Maggie said it all the damn time but for some reason she didn’t count) but everyone knew that Beth was in a dire need of training but would most likely hurt herself before learning anything.
Daryl tended to disagree. He knew she could learn, but he’d be damned if he’d be the one to sully her light with the training and danger of it all. She didn’t need all that on her. So, Daryl had stood by, silent, while she’d begged, and pleaded, and begged some more to be trained. Daryl had stood by silent as she’d thundered and raged (you couldn’t really call it that, to be honest) every time someone went out to clear the perimeter and told her not to leave her cell. He’d stood by silently as it seemed like her little spirit was being broken and she was accepting her fate. It ate at him, chewed him raw, to see, and he couldn’t stomach when they’d all stood there and she’d seemed so desperate to prove herself and protect Lori (after she’d accepted the fact that she was going to be left behind regardless of if she wanted to or not.) She was right. She needed a weapon if she was going to be successful at all in her ‘mission.’ He’d gotten some of the darkest glares from Maggie when he’d pressed that knife into Beth’s hands, but he hadn’t cared.
It was a funny thing; to understand why your soulmate was a certain way, but to disagree with it. It was just his luck to spend so much damn time around his soulmate only to watch her spend more time with someone else (she and Glenn were getting awfully close). It was just his luck to spend so much time around his soulmate only to find he really disagreed with a lot of what she did or thought. Hell, he was a Dixon afterall. Honestly, it was just Dixon luck for all of that.
Knowing Dixon luck, his colors would arrive and he wouldn’t really have a soulmate at all. The longer he spent around their little farm family additions, that was exactly what he thought was going on. Had to be. His Dixon luck had caused him to be broken; with colors and without a soulmate to share them with. It was a special kind of hell. All the colors that your mind can’t even imagine and no one to talk about or understand them with. The only positive was now he didn’t have to worry about keeping anyone alive because of sentimental reasons. He didn’t have to get attached.
He could focus on keeping everyone alive, no matter how angry they were at getting left behind.
“Alright,” Rick said softly, trying to keep his voice down. Just beyond the barred door in front of them was the hall to the kitchens. They needed to be tactical about this. Nice and quiet until they were in position. “I’m gonna unbar the door, and fire off a round. That’ll draw them over this way, but they’ll be funneled through this door. Hopefully we can take the majority of them out in smaller numbers before we have to move past this point to the kitchens.” His eyes scanned their group. “Any questions?” Daryl gripped his crossbow and shook his head in the negative. Rick gave a nod. “Alright, everyone take your positions.”
~~~
Beth was sitting in her cell writing in her little notebook when she heard Lori begin pacing the cellblock. She closed her notebook and stood to lean against her open door and watch. “You gettin’ restless?” She asked and watched Lori stroke her belly as she moved.
“Yeah...must be it.” Lori agreed distractedly. Beth frowned.
“You alright?” She walked to Lori’s side as Lori gripped the hand railing and began breathing.
“Yeah. Just weak...think I need to eat something…” Beth could tell she was lying.
“Lori…” Lori’s eyes landed on Beth and the fear was palpable.
“Beth…” She breathed, “I think the baby is coming.”
~~~
Daryl wiped the grime from his hands. Killing the walkers as they’d funneled through the door had been a good idea, but difficult to execute. Getting into the kitchen had been even harder, but they’d managed. There was a stock of cans they could use to help tide everyone over until their garden was up and functioning. He pulled the backpack and bag from around his neck and flung them over to Maggie as she started shoving the cans in. “Looks like we got some peaches, corn, beans, cans of chicken, and a large bag of rice down here.” Maggie said as she shoved things into the bag. “We won’t be able to take it all right now. We’ll have to come back in a few trips to get everything. Trying to secure this section would mean cleaning another cell block. Right now, it just ain’t worth it.” They all nodded.
“We can plan another smaller run after we get back. Just grab what you can carry and we’ll make our way back.” Rick supplied as she stuffed another bag full of cans. Daryl gave a grunt as he kept an eye out down the hallway for more walkers coming. So far, so clear.
“That’s all I can carry,” Glenn offered. Maggie made an agreeing noise. Grunts were heard through area before Rick made the signal for everyone to head back. Daryl tried his best to bar the door once everyone was out so that no walkers would get in, but there wasn’t much he could do to really secure the room.
He barred the door once everyone back through the safe zone and continued down the hallway back towards their cell block. When everyone entered it was deathly quiet, with an air that put everyone on edge.
“Beth? Lori?” Rick called out as he walked to the center of the cell block.
“Dad!” Carl cried out from inside his locked cell. Rick rushed over. “It’s mom...the baby is coming.” Rick’s eyes widened and he stood rushing to the end of cell block but stopped halfway down the hall and froze. He heard footsteps behind him but just watched.
The fear in Rick’s voice pushed Daryl into action, moving before he knew what was happening. He froze next to Rick as the sound hit his ears before the picture met his eyes.
Beth stumbled down the hallway, tears blurring her eyes as she walked. She cradled a bloodied sweatshirt to her, not caring of the blood spattered across her front and dripping down her arms. Her eyes landed on everyone’s faces as she rounded the corner and she froze just staring at everyone. A choked sob escaped her throat before she collapsed to her knees, clutching the bundle closer to her as it started wailing.
Her blue eyes darted up as she heard someone step close to her and she locked eyes with Daryl. It was half a breathe that she could hold his gaze before she broke and the baby’s wails were joined by her own.
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scramblingminds · 7 years ago
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Anon forgive me! This took me way too long. Work sucks, ya know. But I hope this makes up for the wait, Some pining fluff that I hope is not awful. Enjoy!
And thank you at @cynthianicolexoxo for helping me when I was stuck on this! You the best boo! 
Pine
"What?"
Paul jumped at the hollered voice, almost knocking himself off the picnic table top he and Aaron were perched on. Aaron chuckled softly rocking Gracie as Daryl put his hands on his hips glaring from across the way. Paul hadn't realized he had been staring so obviously as Daryl worked with the others to rebuild the walls around Alexandria.  
Paul had only just gotten the chance to sit down and eat, Aaron having to tend to Gracie during his own break had joined him. They had been shooting the breeze, Paul smiling down at Aaron's new daughter as she was feed until Daryl came into view. Paul knew the only word that fit how he felt for the redneck was smitten.  
Paul had stopped midsentence, watching Daryl move metal sheeting and lumber with Tobin, his arms on full display with his cut off sleeves. Daryl had to shake his sweat heavy hair out of his face a few times, each time slicking it further back. Having a full view of Daryl's face was rare and Paul was going to bask in it. Aaron had just shook his head as Paul zoned out.  
Daryl had caught him staring though and the guy always had a short fuse with Paul. Not that they didn't get along now, living together after the Sanctuary had brought them closer but Daryl wasn't exactly the more companionable guy. That had been what first peaked his interest in the man; how someone so antisocial had built such strong and loyal bonds with the people around him. He could clearly open up, just not to the scout yet.  
Paul blinked owlishly, thinking fast, "You're really dirty."
Aaron full on snorted as Daryl's jaw dropped, clearly not seeing that coming and neither did Paul honestly. Daryl glanced down at the grime covering his arms and the sweat layered there, not too much worse than his usual and he sneered, "And ya ain't nearly enough. Get yer ass back in gear!"  
Paul deflated as Daryl turned back to his task, Aaron laughing quietly next to him, "You're a smooth one Mr. Rovia."
"Shut it." Paul mumbled, trying not to think about how his face was burning as he got up.
---------------------------
"Need something, Daryl?"
Daryl startled slightly, thankfully not obviously. Daryl had been sitting at the kitchen table, an assortment of blades laid out before him. When Paul had tentatively asked him that morning if he minded sharping his knives because the redneck had some serious skills at it, Daryl had just nodded. Now he had over a dozen knives to see to and what was Paul doing? Distracting him is what.  
Daryl was man enough that he knew he had felt something, while usually annoyance but not only, for the scout since he first revealed his face. Paul, not Jesus anymore because that was a stupid nickname, was everything Daryl wasn't use to anymore. He was all wisdom that would have impressed even Dale and Hershel. He was stronger than him or Rick or them combined. Daryl wouldn't say it out loud but he was so gorgeous that Daryl's eyes always seemed to follow him.  
Like they were after Paul sheepish deposited that literal duffle bag full of knives on him then moved to where Judith was playing. Paul jumped right into her Lincoln logs, much to her excitement since Uncle Daryl was busy. Daryl was trying to focus on cleaning and honing the steel but Paul caught his attention.  
The ninja was humming softly under his breath as they build a giant fort, Judith pausing to look up at him happily, "Can sing?"
Paul chuckled, humming still, "Not well, Judy."
"Sing." She demanded and Paul tipped his head back in a laugh.
"You win," Paul hummed a few notes that Daryl somewhat recall, "I'd heard there was a secret cord, that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you?"
Daryl went still as the vocals rolled over him like water, looking up to find Judith entranced as well, "Well, it goes like this, the forth, the fifth. The minor fall and the major lift. The baffled king composing hallelujah."
Paul's voice was nothing like Beth's, her had been light and soft while his was deep and soothing but they both sent his heart pounding. Daryl wasn't completely sure what that meant but he wasn't fighting it. Paul tucked his hair behind his ear as he leaned into Judith, her face scrunched up with joy, "Hallelujah, Hallelujah."
Daryl hadn't realized he had loosened his grip on the knife in his hand until it clattered to the table top. Paul's voice didn't falter as he faded out, "Hallelujah, Hallelujah."
Paul kissed Judith's cheek really fast as she clapped and cheered. Daryl had just gotten the knife back in his hand when Paul turned to him, eyebrow up with that question. Daryl knew his face was red as he grumbled to cover his embarrassment, "Just some peace and quiet."  
Paul chuckled turning back to Judith, "Uh-oh Judy, Uncle Daryl is grumpy."  
Daryl always loved Judith's laugh but not so much when it was at his expense.
------------------------------------
“Hey, Paul.”  
Paul turned as the rough voice spoke behind him. Daryl and Rick were visiting Hilltop, Maggie was almost due now so they came around more often. Paul had been doing a lesson on knife throwing when the gates had opened, he hadn’t even looked to see who entered. Then Daryl said his name and Paul whirled around.  
Daryl gave him a nod as Rick waved as they walked up to Barrington House. Paul waved back but his eyes stayed on Daryl until he disappeared into the house. Paul turned back to his lesson but his thumb carefully traced the edge of his knife blade.  
Paul had just been making excuses when he asked Daryl to sharpen them. Paul always took over that task with ease but it was a reason to spend some time around the older man without it seeming weird. Daryl did do a damn good job though, his blades looked like new.
Paul got everyone set up with a wooden target and aimed away from anyone else or anything important. He corrected elbows, throw strengths and wrist flicks until it seemed people were getting the hang of it. Paul felt someone walk up behind him but he didn’t have to look to know who it was, “Hey, Daryl, want to join the class?”  
The older man snorted before the sound of steel sliding over soft leather reached Paul’s ears. Paul felt his heart kick up a notch when a strong arm flew by this side and Daryl’s buck knife was embedded in the dead center of the target, “Nah, I’m good. Was wondering if ya wanted to learn somethin'?”
Paul turned to face to man, eyebrow cocked in interested, “Learn what, Mr. Dixon?”  
The blush that scorched up Daryl’s neck was worth the glare and huff he received, “Tracking, prick.”  
Paul felt excitement bubble in his stomach, “You want to go hunting with me?”
“Teach ya to hunt right, since ain’t too many folks good at it around here.” Daryl scratched at the back of his neck, in an adorably awkward way.  
“I'd love that,” Paul turned to his trainees and told them to practice until they were more comfortable then they could stop for the day. He beamed up at Daryl who had retrieved his knife and returned it to his hip, “Let me get a rifle then we’ll head out.”  
“Ya don’t need one.” Daryl started heading for the gate with Paul following confusedly.  
“What am I going to do then? Just watch?” Paul would mind that but he was more of a hands-on learner.
Daryl shook his head and Paul yelped as a crossbow hurdled at his face. Paul caught, surprised by the weight, and blinked owlishly at Daryl who didn’t even break stride as they headed for the woods. Paul opened his mouth but Daryl beat him, “I’ll show ya how to use it then see what ya can do.”  
Paul looked down at the bow, he had only ever seen this one in Daryl’s hands unlike the one Dwight stole. Paul had trusted Daryl was his knives and now Paul was going to learn how to use Daryl’s crossbow. He may have given himself a small pinch, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.  
------
Paul was grateful for his gloves as he loaded the bow, how Daryl got that string back barehanded without a cut was shocking. Daryl had him aim first at a tree but he wasn't doing so hot. Daryl huffed as Paul moved to retrieve another stray bolt.  
"Ya got yer feet wrong," Daryl told him when Paul got back into position, Daryl coming up behind him and Paul swallowed as Daryl moved his feet to the right placement, "Don't hunch yer shoulders up neither. Focus down the sight then squeeze, don't pull."
Paul bit his lip as Daryl ran his hands over Paul's shoulder to straighten them. Paul's eyes flicked over to some movement, a squirrel peeking through the limbs not seeming to be concerned with their presence. Daryl moved into Paul's back, his broad front pressed to Paul's back as he shifted Paul to aim toward the animal.  
"Ya should be able to hit it," Daryl's voice was raspy when he whispered, his breath hot on Paul's ear and making his hair tickle over his throat, Daryl had never been so close to him before by choice, "When yer ready, squeeze."
Paul took a silent deep breath, following the squirrel as it scampered down the trunk, pausing just a second and Paul squeezed. A quiet thunk followed the bolt embedding in the tree right through the squirrel's throat. A clean kill that made Daryl whistle as he leaned back.  
"Not too shabby," Daryl moved around him to collect the bolt and prey, Paul missing his heat as soon as it was gone, "Reload and we'll see what else ya can hit."  
Paul's face was already red but he felt himself blush more under the praise. Reloading was getting easier as he drew the string back and placed the bolt. They both went still when the sound of shuffling in the leaves reached them, Daryl turning around to see a walker stumbling around a tree right behind him, "Shit."
Paul lifted the bow in a fluid motion, "Duck."
Daryl didn't hesitate to fall into a crouch, hand still going for his knife just in case. Paul squeezed the trigger, the bolt hitting over the walkers left eye, so not a perfect shot but it took the thing down. Daryl stood up, pulling the bolt free and turned to Paul with an approving nod, "Not too damn shabby at all."
Paul beamed and even though he missed a doe later he still bagged over a dozen squirrel's and he did get to spend the rest of the day learning down a skin game with Daryl. So, he was counting it as a good freaking day.
------------------------
"I always heard that bad moonshine will make you go blind."  
Daryl's head lulled over to look at Paul. He had found the rotgut out on a run and the scout had been the first person to pop into his mind to share it with. They were each currently a jar in apiece, Daryl had fond about a crate worth and the stuff was strong. A pleasant warmth was flowing through Daryl's veins and he was glad that when he showed up at the younger man's door he was greeted with a nod and grin.  
The words gave him pause, even though Paul was smiling crookedly when he said it still put a small hurt in Daryl's chest. Daryl had never really thought too much about how he felt when he had been with Beth for those short days. It hurt too much now but it was a lot like how he felt whenever he was around Paul. To push the pain away he snorted with an eyeroll.
"Bet ya read that in one of these books." Daryl gestured at the rows of books on Paul's shelves, there was a ton of them.
"Don't disrespect my literature, man," Paul took a swallow from a fresh jar, "You have your bike, I have my books."  
"Least my bikes useful." Daryl smirked slouching deeper into the couch they were sharing.  
"Books are useful." Paul protested.
"How is 'Catcher in the Rye' useful?" Daryl picked the first title he saw.  
"For reading, Daryl, duh," Paul rolled his eyes overdramatically and Daryl couldn't help finding it adorable, "And don't diss the classics."  
"Ain't got pictures, not interested." Daryl laughed as Paul threw his hands up in defeat then flop back next to Daryl.
"You're impossible, Dixon." Paul offered Daryl the jar in his hand and Daryl took a swig as Paul watched him.
"What's my opinion matter anyhow, prick?" Daryl set the jar on the floor next to his feet.  
Paul blinked a few times, seeming to think this over before he breathed, "Because I like you, asshole."
Daryl froze, not realizing just how close they were until then. Their arms were lined up against each other, Paul a solid heat on his side that was more than nice. There were literally only inches between their faces and Daryl's was now warm with more than alcohol.  
Paul seemed to be equally frozen, like he was scared of what he had just said. Daryl was too drunk for this. Too drunk for Paul's big kaleidoscope eyes staring at them. And way too drunk for the thoughts popping into his head about closing that few inches, it wasn't the right time for stuff like that.  
Daryl stood up, legs wobbly and Paul didn't move as Daryl stumbled out of the trailer. Daryl had to sleep on this and off this buzz before he did anything.  
----------------------
Paul wasn't quite hungover but his head was throbbing as he gave another knife throwing lesson. It might have been from the embarrassment he had stewed in the night before more so than the moonshine. Daryl had just left after Paul dropped that ill-timed bomb. Paul looked up when the door to Barrington House opened, Maggie came out with Daryl at the heavily pregnant leaders side. Their eyes met for a moment but Paul turned back to his class.
"Hey, Paul."  
Daryl's voice reached him from across the yard as the man strode over. Paul didn't look though; his face was hot and he wasn't ready to face the rejection just yet. Paul didn't fight when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and nudged for him to turn.
"Look, Daryl, I'm sorry-" Paul started but fingers tilting his chin up made him pause.
"Sorry 'bout last night, had to clear my head before I did this." Daryl's hand moved to Paul's jaw and the ninja had to try not to melt at the touch.  
"What?" Paul gasped as chapped lips met his, it was a quick peck but still perfect.
Daryl leaned back just enough to rasp, "Like ya too, prick."  
Paul grinned, his hands coming up to Daryl's chest to grip his vest. They both jumped when louder than thunder, "Called it! You owe me a week of night shifts!"
They looked to see Kal pumping his fist excitedly as Eduardo flipped him off. Laughter erupted from the audience Paul forgot they had and both their faces went even redder. Daryl tried to duck his head but Paul caught his face, leaning in for another kiss. Paul didn't care who watched or made bets, all that matter was Daryl's mouth moving against his, finally.  
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humanityinahandbag · 7 years ago
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Defective (the first in a random collection)
In which a writer tries to write snapshots into the life of the first (and only) Rick to leave the citadel and actually raise a fucking family. 
His name is Rick C-236.B. And he’s vaguely and reluctantly domestic. 
Updates are not planned and this might go flopping spectacularly. This writer also has too many fics she needs to finish. So don’t expect a novel. 
Rick C-1902b stares at Rick C-236.B and takes a long swig of his flask. It’s purposeful, and a dick move at that. C-236.B’s flask had been confiscated after they’d finished patting him down (they’d completely missed the vials of high toxicity neuron gas he’d shoved up his ass so at least he had that if it came to it) and his hand twitched. His brow pushed down, and he glared at C-1902b, who made a show of shotgunning the rest of the vodka before tucking away the flask in his lab coat. “So, you’re being dem-ugh-demoted, huh?”
He wished he was that level of shit-faced right then. Sobriety wasn’t a good look on him. “Apparently.”
“Heh.” C-1902b flipped through a stack of papers. “You’re getting a bughh- a defective. Sign here.”
There’s no real argument to be had. He was just another Rick who’d tried to topple the oligarchy of Rick’s. It had been done before. It’d be done again. He was just another cog in a pattern. And each one of them, of which there had been many, was eventually given the temporary sentence of a defective Morty.
It usually lasted a few short months before the sentences were retracted for a lighter, more manageable one.
Toppling the oligarchy was, after all, an every day sort of thing. It didn’t warrant much more than a slap on the wrist. And a few months with a shitty side piece was usually all they got for it.
He signed Ape Aids on the paper (for which the proctor only snorted and filed somewhere next to Chimp Fuckers), handed in his number card, and walked around the desk. C-1902b got up and followed in step. He fiddled with his portal gun and pointed it at the bare wall. “They got you a real nice place, shit bag. Real nice.”
“Shut the fuck up and do your job.”
C-1902b guffaws. “You’re gonna fuckin’ love this.” He shoots. The green portal opens with a resounding braaaaaaawwhhhh and C-236.B huffs a heavy sort of sigh that smells too much like vomit and booze.
This whole place smelled like vomit and piss and booze. Home, the Rick’s would call that. He saluted the other Rick, and with a chirp of -”see you later, pussy” and a high held middle finger, he steps through, into the suburbia that greets him on the other side.
There’s a social worker at the front door. Which is… strange. Because he’s standing on the lawn and there’s a social worker sort of just standing around like he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on either, and he looks at Rick for a second like he’s some sort of old vagrant before knocking on the door again. “Mrs. Smith-?”
“That’s my daughter.”
The social worker ignores him in favor of pounding on the door. “Mrs. Smith!”
Rick steps forward. He still doesn’t have his flask. Or anything. Except for an ass full of neuron gas but this seems like too much effort to pull a squat just to wriggle that thing out. He groans and pushes forward again, whipping out an arm to snag at the mans coat. “Hey. Dipshit.” The man finally turns enough to ogle Rick with huge, owlish eyes. “I’m her father. Whatever she did, you can fucking talk to me.”
“She abandoned her kids.”
Well. That didn’t sound like Beth.
That sounded like him. Not like Beth.
“I don’t think so.”
“She got drunk again.” said the social worker, by ways of moving the conversation forward. “It was stipulated in her parole-” blah blah blah
“My daughter wouldn’t do that. She” (loves? adores? tolerates?) “likes her kids.”
“Sir, she’s an alcoholic with a long streak of theft.” Well… at least this world made sense hereditarily. She’s been on parole for three days. She ran.”
“Smart choice. Avoid the government.” He always knew his Beth was a good one.
“She left her kids!” He wiggled his files in the air. “Again!”
“Kids get in the way of the whole, avoid the government.”
“Sir-”
Rick cut him off with a snort. “So what? So do… go find her or something? She’ll go… go to rehab and so some shit and what? What’s gonna happen.”
“I don’t know, sir.” The social workers tone became clipped and slow. Like he was talking to a three year old and not a galaxy renowned scientist. Rick clenched his jaw. “She’s missing. She ran away. Again. As if her husband was any help-” (well… at least they were agreed on one thing…) “-he’s off god knows where and now her kids are alone. If a neighbor hadn’t called…”
Oh… oh this was good.
A defective Morty with no Beth. No Jerry. Him and Summer alone without anything. Oh this was perfect! Rick began to compose the speech in his mind. He’d throw it right back at those other Rick’s ballsacks. He’d say too bad! Sent me to the wrong place! Return my belongings and give me a new, functional shield, and go fuck yourselves while you’re at it! He’d be home free.
And it was looking like all of this would turn out this way. Like it was all going to tumble into a perfect little pile of Hell Yeah I’m Rick until…
Until the social worker turned on him.
“You,” said the social worker.
“Me.” stated Rick.
“You’re their grandfather?”
“Uh.”
“I mean, I’ll have to check the paperwork! Make sure you’re really- I can go get that now! Oh my god, sir, this is going to make my life so much better! Oh and the kids, of course, but… but god this is so much paperwork and time saved!”
“Uh-”
“If you wan’t to come into the office? I can get you all the things you need! I assume you’re going to be living in the house or do you have your own residence-”
“Hold the fucking phone.” Rick lifted his palms and shook them in front of the mans face until they resembled little, albino trees on a blustery, blustery day. “Hold the mother fucking phone. You want me to-”
“You’re their next of kin!”
“I’m an alcoholic.”
“I can have you everything by tomorrow! Does that work?”
“I’m definitely abusive.”
“Or would you rather come in today? The sooner the better!”
“I’m going to scar these kids. Like… l-like totally. Beyond redemption. They will be fucked. up.”
“Today. Today is the best.” The social worker beamed up at the abusive, alcoholic, child-scarring man with an earnest sort of glee. “Oh this is wonderful, sir, just wonderful. You already know the children, I’m sure, but I think it best if you explain it all to them, don’t you? Don’t you think that that’s best?”
There were two options.
He could just walk away.
Scratch that. He’s walking. Now.
“Sir? Sir, where are-!”
“Are you… are you my grandpa Rick?” He turns. Oh. Ohhhh fuck.
The social worker kneels down. “Yes, Summer. He’s your grandfather. You know him?”
Summer is at the door. Only she’s not as tall and not as fake-blonde and not as anything. She’s younger. And her eyes are bigger. And she’s doing a fan-fucking-tastic job staring at him with them.
The girl shook her head, but opened her mouth to declare that she’d “met him once” but a long time ago, since Beth had stopped seeing guests in favor of the bottom of a bottle. She didn’t talk about the fact that he’d left voluntarily. He didn’t have to be a part of this universe to know that. Rick’s always left. And they always came back just to screw everything over a few times.
He takes a step back. Summer’s eyes are on him again.
“Where are you going, Grandpa Rick?” There’s a noise behind her, and a younger child, two or three or just spectacularly short, toddles up and takes her hand and peers around at the older man like he’s seeing him for the first time. He probably is.
“Morty, look! It’s our…” her eyes flicker up, then down again, “Grandpa?”
“Rick. Just Rick.”
“Grandpa,” she amends. She’d always been that way- declaring the world her own through whatever words she chose. The Morty behind her shifted and hid his face against her back. “He’s gonna take care of us?”
“He is,” said the social worker, who holds out a pen. “Right, Mr. Smith?”
He probably should say no, and watch them get hauled into the stupid pussy green Pries that's sitting on the road. Off to some stupid godforsaken government fondled foster center. They'd be separated and one or both of them would end up in some shitty situation with the whole "hard knock life" vibe. And that didn't matter. He didn't care. He could wait until they'd been weathered by someone else besides him, and then sweep them back up, the hard work of shattering two innocent souls completed and the lazy, aftereffects left for him to do with as he pleased. Except... a few years, alone, in suburbia. That sounded like a borefest beyond all borefests.
Entertainment came in all forms, he supposed.
Rick sighs. His plan forgotten and his spirits, for the most part, dashed, he eased forward and took the pen. “It’s Sanchez,” he said, signing the bottom. “And bring the stupid fucking paperwork tomorrow.”
“Will do, sir!”
There are at least a few good things here, Rick thinks, when he shuts the door and looks down at the two tiny children who stand in front of him.
Morty, who still hides his face still against Summer’s back, is young.
Young enough to make an impression.
A lasting impression.
A I’ll-Do-Whatever-Without-Complaining sort of impression.
The kind that could make all those other Rick’s realize who’d gotten the best part of the deal. When he walked through the citadel with his loyal, no questions asked Morty. They’d see. They’d all see.
“So,” says Summer, reaching behind her to hold Morty’s shoulders at an odd angle. “Your our… parent?”
He breaks out of his reveries long enough to look down at her. “No. I’m your grandparent. You got booze?”
“No. I’m six.”
“Okay. But is there booze here.”
“I don’t know. I’m six.”
He draws out a long sigh.
“Are you going to stay here forever?”
“No,” says Rick, who’s turning around to go find booze. The two kids march fast to keep up with his legs. “I’m going to stay long enough to break you two into obedient little servants who will bend at my every will.” He points to the little boy. “Especially you.” Morty, who had peeked over the curve of Summer’s neck, pushes his face between Summer’s shoulder blades. “And then once I’ve gotten there, I’m going to shove it into the stupid Citidel’s face and they’ll take me back as a hero. And then you,” he points again to Morty, “will be my mental shield, and you,” the finger inches over to Summer, “are going to be a nagging bitch. Sound good?”
The impressive little speech hangs in the air between them.
Summer squints up at him until her nose wrinkles. “Okay. But are you going to make dinner?”
The moment is promptly lost. “Probably not.” says Rick. He goes back to the cabinets. There really was no booze. The parole officers must have snagged it. Fucking government pawns. “Eh… you guys eat pizza?”
“Yeah.”
“Pizza it is.”
“I want pineapples on mine.”
“Pineapples are for whores, Summer.”
Morty pokes his head over, his brown curls bobbing. “I want pineapple,” he squeaks, barely audible, mimicking his sister with his own desire for the whorish fruit before planting his face right back where it had been.
They end up ordering a pie with half pineapple, half anything else, and eat in silence around the table. Summer helps Morty with his. Rick just watches. She takes care of the younger, it looks like, down to silently lifting his hand when the cheese begins to drip down his wrist. Beth must have been in a fucking state not to. She’d never been mom of the year. But this was… something new.
The two are mostly self sufficient, and so teeth are brushed and beds are turned down without a fuss or help. Morty shuts his door and Summer leaves hers open, and Rick wanders to his own bedroom to find its an office, and so he ends up wandering to the couch downstairs and claiming it as his own.
Well. It could be better. It could be worse. But for all that it was, he would break them. And then… then they would see. Then they would all see just what happened when you messed with a Rick and his deficient Morty.
It’s two weeks in, when the house is actually functioning (albeit very loosely) with a sort of schedule, when Morty is still not talking to him that he the whole “breaking” plan is seeming a little harder than before.
Morty and him had always clicked. Clicked like two puzzle pieces being shoved and broken together. But at least they’d worked. This Morty peers at him from behind couches and shoves cereal in his mouth to avoid letting words out.
He learns a few things about each kid. Things he knew from their older versions. And things that he’d missed when he’d missed the whole young kid age.
Summer hates artichokes and tuna fish, but is okay with salmon as long as it’s mixed with mayo.
Morty likes drawing. And that’s about it.
He draws on everything. Everywhere. There’s little sneaky dots on the walls that he hides with the Fisher Price toys scattered around, and a few on the legs of the couch. Paper is everywhere, crumpled up, and covered with different strings of terrible art. Summer is the one who usually picks them up and throws them away, shoving them deep into the trashcan next to the beer cans from Rick’s late night science binges. “Just leave him alone while he draws,” Summer advises, sounding like she’s ten years older than just six, but he doesn’t comment. “It’s how he coped.”
“With what? A drunk?” Rick shakes the can in her face and she swats it away.
“It’s how he coped,” she says again, before throwing the rest of the drawings out.
He’ll find Morty “coping” every so often. And each time, he tries to make some sort of… conversation? Mind bending alteration? … breakthrough? …mental scar? Today, the chosen place is from under the table, with a crayon in each hand, and a paper in front of his feet. Rick bends down. “Hey, kid, you gonna talk now or w-ugh-what.”
Morty nearly snaps the crayon in two and crawls out, hurrying to find a new place to hide. His drawing (it’s a whale. or a dinosaur. or… maybe a weird vagina creature or something?) is left behind.
Rick picks it up. He turns it one way. He turns it the other way. “Huh,” says Rick.
He hangs it on the fridge with a super magnet he’d created to attract quarters (a mostly failed project- it’d gotten him pennies and not much else).
The next day, Morty is once again coloring something that resembles a group of drowning people. Rick snorts. “Hey, not bad!”
That’s enough to send the kid into an anxiety ridden spiral and he dives under the couch and stays there until Summer drags him out by his ankles.
The picture, which is a lot of blue shit, goes up on the fridge.
By the end of the week, their fridge is mostly covered with Morty’s “coping”.
He’ll find Morty standing at the foot of it, staring up. He gives the kids leg a little kick. “Not bad, right?” The kid blinks at him. Better than running away. “I bluhhh- I got this fridge to magnetize to substances containing traces of tree pulp and wax. Set it real low, s-so it’ll only work for paper and crayons and shit. You like?”
Morty looks back at it. And then he hands Rick a new drawing. “Sure,” says Rick, thwaking it onto the fridge. “That good?”
Morty nods.
“You want dinner? Pizza?”
Morty shakes his head.
His grandfather groans. “Right. Okay. So I can’t cook much shit b-but…” he opens the fridge, and the paper flutters and whisks around, “how -how are eggs. You like eggs?”
Morty nods.
They eat a pile of party burned eggs for dinner. Morty helps his grandfather bring the plates to the kitchen, and hands them off before scurrying up to bed.
They never ask where their mother is. Or their father. They never really mention their names or faces. Summer doesn’t seem at all torn up at the concept of a sudden and uncaring guardian, and Morty is content to hold his sisters hand and tag along.
Rick feels bad for them in the kind of kicked puppy way.
“You want to call your mom or… I dunno… something?” asks Rick one day to the kids.
Summer is brushing her hair in the mirror and doesn’t bother to look away from what she’s doing. “No,” she says. Morty, who’s next to her sitting on the toilet lid and watching, doesn’t do anything. “She’ll call if she wants to.”
She doesn’t call.
That tells Rick a lot about this reality, which is sort of more fucked up than the other ones he’s been to.
He didn’t think that was much possible.
The fridge is literally drowning in paper.
Between that and eggs, Rick is basically running a household.
Which is… different.
The plans to break the kids get put off in favor of other, more important things. Like trying not to burn eggs.
Morty’s first words to him were supposed to be something like “what can I do to serve you” or “I’ll be your eternal slave forever and always” or “gee whizz, Rick, don’t you think this is dangerous?” or something Morty-ish like that.
“Can you reach the ice cream.”
That’s the first words. The first fucking words.
“What?”
Morty points to the paper swamped freezer. “The ice cream.” He’s got a little bit of a lisp, and two of his teeth are missing. He’d never opened his mouth, so the elderly man never noticed. “I want chocolate.”
“Oh.” Rick opens the freezer. It’s the first one, on the bottom, and it’s still full. He doesn’t even comprehend the magnitude of the fact that his grandchild is finally talking to him, or the fact that his first words to him are so puss poor and definitely not in line with his plans at all -I mean for real, isn’t he supposed to be the one giving directions?- but he’s sort of overtaken by the fact that holy shit there’s ice cream.
He spoons it into three cups and shouts something like Summer get your ass down here up the stairs, and plants them all in front of the television and says “alright Kids, I’m gonna introduce you to the wonders of ball fondlers.”
The usual Morty liked it more than this Morty. But this Morty at least stays quiet.  He crosses his legs and watches and drops half the ice cream onto the couch, which Rick is going to have a shit time cleaning but he doesn’t care.
“I liked the crocodile,” says Morty after, yawning and trailing after his grandfather. Rick grabs a paper towel and runs it under too-hot water and scrubs down the kids face. Morty protests, but it doesn’t matter much.
“It’s an alligator, dumbass.”
“I liked him.” His chin is all red and blotchy after Rick had scrubbed it raw, but at least it’s clean. He throws it away and grabs Morty’s arm.
“Come on. Bed.”
“I have to brush my teeth.”
“Fine. Teeth. Then bed.”
Morty allows himself to be dragged along. Which is such a Morty thing to do, and that’s at least a small comfort through all of this. “I like Elmo better.”
“Elmo ain’t got shit. Can Elmo castrate an entire commune of nazis?”
“Elmo says I can do anything if I dream it.”
“Dreams are just chemicals reacting in your brain and Elmo is a puppet. Like you.”
“Oh,” says Morty. Then: “I like Cookie Monster the best anyway.”
And that was Morty. Always seeing the best.
Rick helps him get toothpaste onto the brush and shoves him into his room and watches him sternly (or as stern as he thinks he needs to look for a grandfather running a household that basically lives off pizza and eggs and ice cream) from the doorway. The kids pajamas are too small, but he wriggles into them anyway. The last good pair he had must have been given to them before his daughter had gone bananas on reality and fucked off. He wondered how Summer was faring. And then he shakes his head and stops himself from wondering.
He wonders anyway.
No one says goodnight, except for Summer who shouts at Rick to shut off the light already! and that’s sort of the same thing.
Rick collapses on the couch that night and stares at the ceiling. His plans… they’re not shattered? But they’re not… in order. They’re chaotic and messy. And a little scattered.
But that’s what they sentenced him to. A Morty that had been deemed defective until further notice. And his… was a work in progress. Progress that he didn’t want to do.
But hell. He’d done worse. And this was just going to be one in many days ahead that he had to work with what he’d been dealt…
… and what he’d been dealt apparently went down the drain with one huge fuck you old man because by the end of the month he’s standing in a Target looking through the pajamas while an acne covered employee drones “what are you looking for sir?”
“What the fuck does it look like?”
“I’m only here to help, sir,” says the teen, who’s basically dripping oil and cologne.
Rick sighs. “I need a size six. My kid’s fucking tiny as shit. You got a size six? In dinosaur. He only li- li- brurghhh- likes dinosaurs.” Which is evident enough by the stack of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets also in the cart next to the carrot sticks that the mom next door said were essential to a Childs growth. He'd picked out pajamas for Summer already, next to a few different shirts that had looked about their size, and some jeans with elastic ankle bands because he had to be cruel to them somehow. “And if you don’t have it, I’ll have to shoot your f- ughhh-cking face in.”
"Sir, are you drunk."
"I wish." He pauses. “Halfway there. Should be there by checkout.”
"Sir, are you carrying a concealed weapon."
"Not concealed. It's here." he pat his pocket.
"Sir, you can't have that in here. It's dangerous."
"it's only dangerous if you d- ughh- don't got dinosaurs! Size six, motherfucker."
The teen can only find Star Wars, and he hands it over with a monotone, "sorry, sir, will these do" that tells Rick his shift is almost done so please hurry the fuck up. Rick takes them and hopes the kid knows what Star Wars is. And also hopes that he hates it. That fake science wasn't worth shit.
"Thans for nothing."
"Always happy to help, sir." says the teen, who resumes his wandering to search for more victims. Rick does the same, only after loading two more cartons of chocolate ice cream into his cart. The kids, it seemed, were still fond of ice cream, sans flies. Some things didn't change.
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emiliaclarkesdragons · 7 years ago
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Madelynn liked it at Woodbury but that may have been because he was there. When he died, she didn't see the point in fighting to stay there, they were kicking her out anyway. Because of him, he defended the wrong side, to them and now Madelynn was going to pay. Madelynn left before they could kick her out, she knew they would leave her outside the wall with no supplies.
Ever since Merle had told her about his brother, she had been monitoring the watchers on the wall. Madelynn knew there would come a time they needed to leave, but she never imagined it to be without Merle. But there was no time to think about that now. It was 1:35am and Madelynn was placing the remaining items that once belonged to her and Merle in her backpack, they didn't have a lot. She checked her watch again, 1:39am it read. It was time for her to leave. She took her knife, Merle's gun and placed a picture of them both in her top pocket of her shirt. Madelynn found herself remembering when Merle told her that his gun was really his brothers and that he was going to give it back to him one day. As she was leaving out the door she picked up her crossbow. She was well equipped.
Now for the hard part, she had to get from one side of Woodbury to the other in- Madelynn looked at her watch- 12 minutes. It was now quarter to 2, the watches swap and leave the wall unattended for about 3 minutes. Madelynn had written all this down in her notebook, that was tucked in her bag. If Daryl was anything like his brother, they needed prof of where she came from and who she was. Madelynn knew she couldn't just walk through the main streets, she had asked Merle what the Governor did at night-
"Babe?" Madelynn began, her voice sweet. Merle looked around at her, she was perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, she watched his as he made them some dinner. "What does the Governor get up to at nights?"
Merle stared at her, "why?" He demanded, it was fair to say that he thought the worst of her then.
"I'm just thinking, with you and your brother... we might have to leave and night time is our best option." Merle grinned at her, he felt guilty for not trusting but with his past relationships... you couldn't blame him really. "What?" Madelynn asked.
"Nothing, sweetheart" He replied, he was happy Madelynn was thinking about leaving Woodbury if it came to that, "I don't know what he does, but I'll find out."-
As expected Madelynn saw the Governor standing outside his house, he was barely visible. Madelynn was able to see him as she was looking for him. She had been going through the back allies of the houses but now there weren't any. Madelynn crouched next to the bin and waited until the coast was clear.
Madelynn could see the prison, she let out a huge sigh. Her relief soon left when she saw the Creepers surrounding it. "Shit" She mumbled. It was now midday and she hadn't stopped yet. The path to the Prison wasn't far away, she had to get there today, there might be people looking for her now... She realised she only assumed they would kick her out, they were probably going to kill her. She hadn't thought of that. Madelynn sat down after walking a little further, she was going to have to kill some of the Creepers, but Madelynn needed an advantage point. Madelynn now had a plan. She jumped up, "Right then" she breathed and ran towards the woods. Madelynn waited before she took the crossbow off her back and began taking out the Creepers.
On the watchtower, Glenn and Maggie had seen something move, "That was too fast to be a walker" Glenn said. Maggie decided it would be best to tell Rick and Daryl no matter what it could have been. Glenn had said it could have been an animal.
"Where?" Rick asked Glenn as he and Daryl made his way to the watchtower. Glenn explained that it was near the gate but he wasn't sure if it was a person or not. Glenn pointed to the direction of Madelynn, even if they didn't know it was a person. They watched for a moment and they started to see the walkers drop.
It was Daryl who saw that it was arrows. "They're pretty good with that" He complimented, but rushed out the watchtower, following Rick and Glenn. They needed to guard the gate. It could be the Governor, they thought, even if they knew he would make a bigger, more obvious entrance.
Madelynn couldn't stay there forever, she was nearly out of arrows and the Creepers had now realised and were closing in- slowly- on her. Madelynn put the crossbow back on her back and took out her knife.
A woman came out from behind the bushes, she proceeded to collect the arrows she had used and killed off more Walkers. Daryl watched her, he wouldn't admit it but he was impressed by her. He wanted to help but that was completely up to Rick.
"I really can't thank you enough-"
"Don't mention it, you cleared half those walkers out there" Rick cut Madelynn off to thank her. "You can have this cell."
"I'm Beth" a girl said, the had long blonde hair which she tied back, she was one of those people who never looked like they were in an apocalypse. "Sorry in advance for the noise, this one can be a little noisy at night" she laughed a little, looking at the baby. Madelynn walked towards the baby. She was happy to see new life, after all... she might be one of them carrying it.
Daryl burst through the Prison doors and headed straight for Madelynn, she didn't notice. She was too distracted with Beth and the baby. Multiple people had tried to stop him from charging up to her like he had. "What the hell is this?" He demanded, backing her into a wall. It took a moment for her to realise what it was. "First you barge in here, killing all the walkers, making this your home and now I find this!" He yelled.
"Was that open when you found it?" She asked, that was the most important thing right now.
Daryl didn't think it was, "Does it matter? Why the hell is your name on it?"
"It does matter, was it open?" Madelynn demanded, but Daryl demanded why it had her name on it. He was referring to the letter inside she had put in there.
"Why was this with my brother?" Daryl asked.
"Was it open when you found it?" Madelynn asked.
Daryl tutted and huffed but he realised he wasn't getting anything out of her until he answered, "yes" he said.
Madelynn's hands flew across her mouth, "is there something inside?" She asked. Daryl didn't understand what was going on but he answered.
"Just a pregnancy test that's positive" He replied, he had looked at it when he found it, if he had read the whole letter then he would have known the full story. Madelynn collapsed to the floor and started crying, one hand was over her mouth the other on her stomach. Madelynn was carrying new life.
Daryl didn't know what to do or say as he watched Madelynn, he looked around to the others and they seemed to understand just fine. "Please someone explain it to him, his expression is making my head hurt," Glenn shook his head and walked away.
Maggie and Beth crouched down next to Madelynn and placed their arm around her, "are you?" Maggie asked. Madelynn nodded. "Is Merle?" Maggie asked. Madelynn nodded. "Were you?" Maggie asked.
Madelynn nodded, "we were married." She said finally and looked to Daryl. She stood up, finally finding her strength. "I am-was married to Merle, we lived at Woodbury but I left as soon as the word traveled round about what he had done to help you..."
"Why didn't you stay?" Rick asked.
"They would have killed me, or left me outside the wall" Madelynn replied. "I have a log book of when the watchers are on shift, it's how I got out... you can use it. If-if you want" Madelynn rushed out. She was going to reach for her backpack but realised that wasn't the best idea.
It seemed that Rick was in a tough decision, he had grown a liking to Madelynn, they all had and now they knew she was carrying a new life... they couldn't kick her out. But that really rested on Daryl.
Daryl scoffed and walked away, Madelynn wanted to go after him but Beth shook her head.
The others had decided that she was allowed to stay here, no matter how much Daryl might protest he would want her with him. That night Madelynn's views on Daryl changed dramatically. She sat in her cell, looking at the photograph with her hand on her stomach. She wondered what Merle did when he read the letter, when he seen the test... Then her thoughts went to Daryl. He didn't like her, she could understand that but she was family, whether he liked it or not- "Madelynn?" She looked to the doorway and seen Daryl looking sheepish at the door.
"Daryl" Madelynn replied, trying to be polite but it was obvious she was still hurt.
"Madelynn, I wanted to apologies for my behaviour earlier... I am sorry-"
"Apology accepted... we were both hurt..." Madelynn looked down, catching a glimpse of the photograph in the corner of her eye.
"Is that both of you?" Daryl asked, pointing to the photograph. Madelynn nodded and picked it up, handing it to him as Daryl stepped to the edge of the bed. As he looked longer and longer at the photograph he knew what he had to do, his brother looked happy for the first time, he knew something was different, even if Merle didn't let on. Daryl sat down on the bed.
"It was the day we got married... the Governor wanted to be in the photo too but Merle made sure he wasn't" Madelynn laughed. Daryl smiled, waiting for the right moment to speak.
Eventually he did, "Madelynn, I want to take care of you- like- like you're my wife and your child is mine, I know we both want Merle back but... this is all I can give you..."
Madelynn stared at him for a minute and then said, "You are sweet Dixon... just like your brother" She giggled a little, "I would appreciate and love that a lot." Madelynn smiled and Daryl went to hand the photograph back, "Nah, you keep it."
"I'll give it you back, I promise" Daryl whispered. Together Madelynn and Daryl will make a new life without Merle but with him always in their hearts. They will raise the new life that Merle and Madelynn created and that would be a reminder of what they had lost but also what they had won. And that was the new life.
PART 2
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popgoesthewiener · 8 years ago
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Even The Stars Are Ill At Ease 0001 - Doofus Rick Sanchez/Evil Morty Smith - SFW
Title: Even The Stars Are Ill At Ease Author: Daisy  Fandom: Rick And Morty Setting:  Pairing: Doofus Rick/Evil Morty, J19ζ7 Rick/Evil Morty, Gazorpazorpian Rick/Evil Morty, C137 Rick/Evil Morty, Evil Rick/Evil Morty, Riq IV/Evil Morty, Storage Rick/Evil Morty, Miami Rick/Miami Morty, Miami Rick/Investment Rick/Miami Morty, Super Morty Fan Morty/Miami Morty, Punk Morty/Miami Morty, Greaser Morty/Miami Morty, Punk Morty/Greaser Morty/Miami Morty, Dreamy Rick/Novelist Rick, Dreamy Rick/Punk Morty, Novelist Rick/Greaser Morty, C137 Rick/C137 Morty, Birdperson/Tammy Gueterman, Abradolf Lincoler/Nancy, Mr. Lucius Needful/Summer Smith Characters: Doofus Rick, Evil Morty, Gazorpazorpian Rick, C137 Rick, Evil Rick, Riq IV, Storage Rick, Miami Rick, Investment Rick, Dreamy Rick, Novelist Rick, Miami Morty, Punk Morty, Greaser Morty, Super Morty Fan Morty, C137 Morty, Birdperson, Tammy Gueterman, Abradolf Lincoler, Nancy, Mr. Lucius Needful, C137 Summer Smith, Doofus Jerry, Doofus Beth, Doofus Summer, Doofus Snuffles Genre: Romance/Angst/Drama/Hurt/Comfort Rating: E Chapters: 1/? Word Count: 3522 Type of Work: Chapter Story Status: Incomplete Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, Het, Straight, AU - Canon Divergent, Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Gore, Child Abuse, Incest, Grandfather/Grandson Incest, Selfcest, ABO Dynamics, Alpha!Doofus Rick, Omega!Evil Morty, Some Universes are ABO and others are not, Most pairings are just mentioned, More Tags To Be Added Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. Summary: Evil Morty isn’t totally sure what to do about his desire to have a ‘Proper Rick’, while Doofus Rick is finding that he might have been forced to forget something important. AN: Alright guys, so like… I have this whole headcanon surrounding Doofus Rick being Evil Morty’s original Rick. I’ll let the story tell itself, instead of spoiling things, but some things to note: Evil Morty’s Snuffles never left entirely, he stayed with Morty and kept his mecha suit. Doofus Rick is a trauma therapist that sometimes works with the Rick police/military forces, especially with victims of Ricks’ plots. He deals with a lot of Rickless Mortys, too. 
Rick And Morty Fic Masterlist (Chapters Will Be Posted There) Chapter One: I Woke Up To Something In My Head ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Sunlight filtered into the house through the big picture window downstairs, and everything seemed cheery and bright save for the young teen’s bedroom. The lights were off, blackout curtains drawn, and he lay snuggled down underneath his six blankets, not ready to leave his cocoon of warmth and safety. It brought a sweet smile to the lips of the elder male as he entered the room with a wooden tray full of food in hand.
“Morty?” A smile brighter than a thousand suns met his eyes, the second one slowly refocusing with a few mechanical whirs. Those buck teeth, he’d know them anywhere. “Rick…?” He whispered, slowly pushing up onto his knees, one hand holding up his weight as the other dug the heel into his false eye. “What are you-- I thought you were-- Do you remember…?” “I made you breakfast, silly.” Rick absently flicked some hair out of his face, setting the ornate little tray down in front of his Morty and ruffling his wild, sleep-destroyed curls. “I was thinking maybe later, we could go out. You know, we need some more cesium for something we’re working on, and I thought maybe I could take you out for lunch. Anywhere you like, little buddy! Today’s your special day.” Leaning forward, he pressed his lips softly to Morty’s forehead, before getting up and dusting off his pants.  “Wh-where are you going?” For a second, he couldn’t hide the desperation on his face, the terror in his tone, and his eyes must have looked pained because Rick sat back down beside him, tugging him into his lap. “Oh, baby, don’t look so sad… I need to go grab my breakfast so I can eat with you.” His voice was soft, sincere, and something about it calmed the racing heart of the boy in his arms.  “I just… Don’t want to lose you.” Morty imparted shyly, the brighter aura of his mechanical eye shining in the dimly lit room. It made the red on his cheeks even more obvious, and he looked away as another kiss was pressed to his cheekbone.  “I’m not going anywhere without you, Morty, you know that.” He smiled softly, slowly picking the other up and setting him beside his tray of food, getting up again. “I’ll be right back.” Casting a glance at the pancakes with strawberry glaze, the bacon and egg baked thingy that Rick insisted was the better version of both worlds, the orange juice and milk sitting side by side, he found himself sighing. How could anyone want this to stop? With a little sigh, he tucked into his orange juice, eyelids slipping closed. Seconds later, he was jarred out of his joy by the entire room shaking. Debri fell from the ceiling and his shocked eyes flitted around the room. Hot, wet tears ran rampant down his cheeks as he heard a sob of anguish from downstairs; he could feel his hands quaking, the burn of bile in his-- “Morty.” An almost robotic voice managed to sound concerned. A hot, red tongue swiped over his cheek several more times before the brunet shot up in bed, smacking his head on the mechanical contraption his dog resided in. Tears slipped down his cheeks but it had nothing to do with the pain in his head.  “Sn-Snowball?” He questioned, slowly, eyes narrowing, the right one whirring as it shot about the room. He wasn’t in that sun drenched house anymore, his bed was lumpy and cold despite him sleeping in the same spot all night, and the only other living being worth his time in this place was his dog. The cold metal of the room he was in only helped to amplify the loneliness he felt as he absently reached forward to pet the fluffy dog’s chest, the only spot his neural suit didn’t totally cover. “It appears you were dreaming of him again, Morty.” The dog informed, carefully preparing the suit for exit so that he could hop up onto the bed. The little white Maltese crossed the gray blanket to curl up in his friend’s lap, licking at his chin again before watching him carefully. “If you need it, I am here for emotional support.” Chuckling a little bit, albeit mirthlessly, Morty’s hands lovingly pet down the fluffy dog’s fur, scratching the base of his tail and rubbing along his spine. The human was so good at getting all the spots his companion couldn’t quite reach, and it always made him pant a smile.  “I might just need to go see hi--” A pause, and he gulped, “My therickpist again.”  “You cannot hide forever.” Snowball responded, those beady eyes looking up into Morty’s, “He will find out somehow. His entire livelihood--” “I know. Until then, I have to--” “Make do with other Ricks? Let them treat you poorly so you feel more like one of yourselves?”  “...You’d make a great therick-- Therapist, Snuffles.” But it wasn’t the most praising tone he’d ever heard. Snowball bared his teeth for a moment, before huffing and closing his eyes, sighing gently. “Go, then. I’ve made breakfast, but I know you’d rather not eat before you go to the Citadel. I suppose that means more bacon for me.”  “You eat all the bacon you want, Snuffles. You’re the best friend a Morty could ask for.” Kissing his head, he let the dog make his way back to his suit before getting out of bed and stretching. It would be a long day, most likely, and he wanted to at least look a little less like he’d gotten three hours of sleep this week and hadn’t remembered what a shower was for at least half of that time. It was hard to be involved in a project as large as the one he was busy with, and maybe this particular trip was long, long overdo.  Eyepatch in place, he settled into the scalding water, letting it soak away his fatigue even as he found himself wishing he could crawl back into bed. The desire to go see the man that plagued his dreams was enough to spur his leaden limbs to moving, and he took the bare minimum of showers before he was hopping into his usual shirt and pants. White vans on his feet and black socks climbing up his calves, he closed his eyes as he tried to think about what to do about the circles under his eyes. A glance at the clock told him he needed to go quickly, so he changed his mind about doing anything and simply grabbed his portal gun out of the box labeled ‘PORN’ in his closet.  It took less time to portal to the Citadel of Ricks than it probably should have, and he was thankful that he wasn’t the only solo Morty running around. All he had to do was go to Sanchez And Associates, which would take him six streets north, four to the right and down the last one, across from the McRick’s that he’d probably eat lunch at. It was a simple enough walk, melded in with the other Mortys with his eyepatch in his pocket, and when he finally arrived at the old hotel, he took the stairs to avoid any awkward elevator moments.  Upon arriving on the third floor, even he had to admit he was a little out of breath, panting as he rest against the wall. A couple other Mortys passed him, chatting about this, that and the other thing, giggling like a gaggle of girls. It set his jaw so tight his eyes hurt, and he had to rub them, the whirring of his right eye kicking up another notch as he rolled it up and back. When it came back to a normal setting, he could see through the wall like an X-Ray, trying to find his purpose for coming here in the first place. “...Hey, what the fuck are you doing here again, kid? Weren’t you just--” “Shut it, Rick.” Morty snapped, eyelids narrowing dangerously as he snarled his next words, “I thought it was that Morty’s day to work? Didn’t realize there was going to be a secricktary today.” “I’m the fucking secretary today, you little shit. Don’t bite my balls off, Jesus. Who are you here for?” Leveling a glare on the scowling man behind the desk, Morty finally sighed and rolled his eyes before closing them. Breathe. That was what he’d been instructed whenever his temper was too high. Most Ricks weren’t smart enough to listen, but he still had that Morty disposition, despite the fact. “J19ζ7 Rick.” There was a look settled on him before the Rick laughed around the mouth of the bottle he was drinking from.  “Doofus? You Mortys sure love him as a therapist.” He almost sounded incredulous for a long moment before he shrugged, “And which Morty are you?” “J499.” It was a lie, one he knew well enough, but it was easy to tell, at this point. At least he was believed. It had been awfully hard getting a new dimension, but finding one that had a dead Rick and Morty was a lot easier than he’d thought. Assuming someone else’s identity was always easier said than done. “...You don’t have an--” “I know. I just had a shitty… Experience, and he said that whenever I need him, I could go see him.” “He says that to--” “Shut up, asshole.” Morty sat on the little couch in the waiting room, facing the door, and pulled out his phone. Flipping through a few things, here, there, then another, he finally found himself relaxing a little. It was one, two, three Mortys and a Rick that walked out of that back office before he finally saw the blue-haired angel that would lead to a bit more of a restful night for him. With any luck. “Hey, there, Morty. Are you ready?” His kind smile and soft blue eyes were enough to coax Morty’s heavy limbs into movement, and he offered a small smile as he nodded. Feeling the other’s hand in between his shoulderblades leached ten million years of stress and anxiety from his soul, and he sighed gently. “Y-yeah, uh… I--” “You don’t have to say anything until you’re comfy on the couch.” The way he said it was more something a father or a friend would, and Morty felt his heart flutter in his chest. Maybe this was a mistake. Or, maybe, he would be able to get this nipped in the bud totally. Once they were behind the closed door, Rick seated himself calmly in his usual chair across from the loveseat Morty spread out on like he owned the place. What he wouldn’t have given to lay his head in the other’s lap… But he had to knock that thought out of his head before he said something stupid.  “So, I heard you had an emergency.” Rick’s voice was soft, his tone sympathetic, and his eyes gentle. Every time Morty exposed himself to this, it just made everything worse. Here he was, sitting with the man of his literal dreams, and all he could do was shrug and try not to stutter. “I… I-- I keep having these… These dreams. About someone that I used to know, and I… I shouldn’t… The dreams are…” If only he could finish a sentence like he could a Morty torture device. “The um… Themes behind the dreams can be… Troubling. Not necessarily bad, but… I shouldn’t feel this way about h-- This person. Sometimes they are… Sexual in nature, and others they are… Almost mundane.” The whole time, Rick took quiet notes on his legal pad, keeping his eyes on the other as he listened intently. Nodding a little here and there, he sat forward just slightly, pressing his elbows on his knees and tenting his hands against his mouth. The gesture was oddly attractive, and brown eyes flitted to the ceiling, the boy closing in on himself where he laid on the couch. Bringing his knees up to his chest, he scooted so that he was sitting in the corner of it, he almost looked guilty. When he didn’t continue, Rick nearly chirped his first question. “Regardless of what happens in these dreams, do you remember how they make you feel?” His head tipped to the side, knocking a bit of his dorky bowl cut into his eyes. Morty wrung his hands as he thought about it. He was almost afraid to say what he actually came up with. “They… Make me feel safe. Like I’m only at home in my dreams.” He began, closing his eyes and trying to think of how to word the rest of it, “It’s like… I… I don’t know, you know? I feel… Happy. And then… I wake up and I’m sad. Snuffles has been great about helping me but he… Doesn’t quite understand, I don’t think.” “Well, the important thing to note, I think, is that these dreams shouldn’t give you excess anxiety. Just like Snowball, you take comfort in them. It’s rather likely that you do not feel anything for this person, but you need to feel safe and happy in your waking hours. Being as you know this person, or did at some point, you probably have a heavy connection to them that you might not consciously be aware of.”  Everything that Rick was saying seemed to cement things in place for him. Morty did crave happiness and that feeling of safety and love that the dreams provided him, and he mourned their absence like he were addicted. Maybe it was wrong of him to want to get up, to snuggle into the other’s lap and have his hair pet, but there it was. The urge was sitting in the black pit of his heart, tugging his heartstrings like it might pull the right one to get him to move. Instead, he stayed firmly planted, rolling his fidget cube in his palm.  “So… I should maybe… S-seek out a… A Rick or something?” His cheeks were hot as the question left his lips, and he felt itchy in a way that only wanting out of one’s own skin could bring about.  “You said that yours died a while back,” Rick responded quietly, writing something down before looking up again, “Perhaps you need one in your life. Many Mortys are fine without their Ricks, but it isn’t uncommon to find one side of the other craving the attention of their opposite.” Some part of Morty wished that this Rick understood what he was saying. Craving the attention of a Rick? That, he figured, was probably true. Which was why there was a Gazorpazorpian Rick in an underground part of his lab back on the planet he’d taken up as his. He’d picked up and dropped so many Ricks in his work, used them as shields and reasons to go this place or that one. He let them think they were in control, he turned them into cyborg freaks like himself, all in an attempt to gain some kind of acceptance. The ones he controlled didn’t give him what he wanted of their own free will. The ones mostly governed by instinct didn’t give him a challenge. And, at the end of the day, none of them were his Rick.  But it seemed the devil was always in the details. “Plus, you said you were from dimension J499, right?” Now, Rick was considering something out the window of his office, closing his eyes and sighing slowly out of his mouth. “That is a dimension that deals heavily in Alpha/Omega dynamics, doesn’t it? It would explain your desire to have a connection with a Rick,” For a moment, he paused, sniffing the air before pausing, “Particularly an.. An Alpha.”  Well, J19ζ7 most certainly wasn’t wrong. J499, much like J19ζ7, was a universe with heavy Alpha/Omega dynamics, and Morty was, despite himself, an Omega. With Omega needs. And his body had figured out long before he had that there was a particular Alpha that he wanted. There were studies, some of which he and Snuffles had discovered on their own, that there were some pairs that were True Mates. It made sense, in his head, that his body desired his mate. But the eighteen year old was far from a virgin, and nothing had ever taken. Maybe he needed to stop running. “Yes… I suppose I could use a Rick with a… With a knot, huh?” He murmured softly, finally tossing his eyes over at the other. How could Rick be so… So calm? Could he not feel how they were drawn to one another? Was he so brainwashed that even his heart couldn’t possibly remember him? The mind-wipe gun that he used shouldn’t have erased everything like this… Maybe he was repressing things, too. “Are you uh, implying that you frequently sleep with… With other Ricks?” There was something in the elder’s tone that awakened something in him that had his heart pounding, and he shrugged a little.  “I…” A lie. He had to tell a lie. Even if the only one he could think of wasn’t entirely untrue. “I make money working at one of the um… M-Morty brothels here in the Citadel.” At least he had the decency to sound properly shamed. Rick’s eyes jumped to the other’s face and for a long moment, he looked a little disturbed.  “Do you enjoy it?” He finally asked, his smile soft again, less upset looking, and he reached forward for his water bottle. The way he gulped it down was telling of something, but Morty wasn’t entirely sure what. “I enjoy being close to Ricks that want to… Be with a Morty. I enjoy sex, as well, like most healthy adults do. It shouldn’t matter that…” That he always felt strangely empty afterwards. It didn’t matter how full his belly was, how much he’d been given, how he’d been used and claimed and left with his entire body full… His heart felt empty.  “It shouldn’t matter that what, Morty?” Reaching over the sparse space between them, he rested a gentle hand on the other’s shoulder and the younger man wanted to scream. Skin on skin contact was worse than anything through his shirt, and he had to force himself not to whimper. “It shouldn’t matter that I want more than physical attention.” “Everything that you desire and need emotionally is just as important as physical needs.” Rick was pulling his hand back again, nodding slightly as he continued, “Never neglect these things. Your body knows what it needs.” “Sometimes I wonder if it does.” Morty responded, feeling lightning surge through every nerve ending as the other’s hand slid up his arm to his elbow. This was embarrassing. Shivers ran down his spine and he slowly sat up, curling in on himself, though there was a scent of sad satisfaction in his scent.  A familiar memory of that particular mixture of lavender, gunpowder and green tea flickered over Rick’s brain, and for a long moment, he just stared. There was a brightness to the flavor of it, and it soaked into the air around them in a way that had him breathing in deep through his mouth to avoid doing something stupid. Morty seemed to notice just what was going on, and suddenly rose to his feet.  “Th-thanks, um. I… That’s probably good, I know you have other patients.” They had barely talked for half an hour, but the room was stuffy and he needed to get out onto the street. Maybe he would treat himself to something from the bakery down the street, instead of his usual chicken nuggets at McRick’s. Before the other could stop him, he was out of the room and practically running down the hallway that lead to the lobby. Pushing out the door and into the hallway, he charged down the stairs like there was a fire on his heels. Outside was both a blessing and a curse; he could breathe again, safely and without compromise, but it was too bright. Scrunching up his eyes as he greedily sucked in air like a man drowning, Morty found himself leaning on one of the pillars that held up the building he’d just run out of. His spine screamed at him to rest for a moment, and he knew better than to push himself when it hurt this bad. A glance up at the window of the room he’d just been in showed a concerned J19ζ7 watching him, a hand pressed to the window. For a second, he was sure that there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, but the younger couldn’t be bothered with that.  The bakery furthest from his therapist’s office was in the main lobby of the Council Chamber, and it was close to a place where he could lose himself for a while. After all, that was probably what he needed the most. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: Oh man. xD I honestly don’t know how this got so long. O.o; But hopefully it’s worthwhile.
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scramblingminds · 7 years ago
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So,  12. “Do it. Take a chance, I’m begging you. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been.” +  14. “I’ve got you. Breathe, okay? I’ve got you.”. Alright anon, here’s what I came up with! Enjoy!
See Ya
The first night Daryl slept in the trailer with Paul he had a nightmare. Daryl had only moved in after Maggie and Enid went up to the House. Paul had smiled when Daryl chanced sheepishly asking if he minded Daryl crashing on his couch.  
Daryl had nightmares a lot over the course of his life but they had gotten worse recently. Some nights he was back in that clearly, the sound of crunching bone in his ears. Other nights he watched Beth die over and over while others he just stabbed Merle's grey face endlessly. Nightmares weren't new for him but that didn't make them any better.  
Daryl had fallen asleep after the scout, the man tucked in his bed while Daryl's too tall frame lay on the couch. Before he knew it he was back in that cell. Daryl didn't like being in small spaces, he panicked at being anywhere cramped. That damn song was echoing on the cement walls and floor, his fever spiked as his shoulder burned and his body fought an infection. After a few days Daryl had begged for it to stop, the noise driving him crazy but Dwight just laughed and turned the volume up.
Stop, make it stop, please stop, stop stop stop stop, please stop.
"Daryl!" Daryl jolted awake as Paul shook his shoulders.
Daryl sat up, head swimming as he tried to catch his breath. His throat raw so he must have been screaming in his sleep. Paul wrapped his arms around him without hesitation, Daryl's head snug to his chest. Daryl was surprised to find he didn’t feel trapped by the embrace like he thought he would.
"I've got you. Breathe, Okay?" Paul shushed him, hand rubbing his back soothingly as Daryl fought to calm his breathing. He tried to match the ninja's even inhales as Paul murmured, "I've got you."  
Daryl nodded, that's right. Dwight and Negan didn't have him anymore. He was at Hilltop, he was in Paul's trailer where it felt like nothing bad could happen. After a few more minutes of Paul's mumbling to him and him brushing Daryl's sweat soaked bangs out of his face Daryl sat back. Paul let him go without restraint, face full of worry as Daryl glanced up at him.
Daryl felt his ears burn, "Sorry to wake ya. I'm good."
"Don't apologize, Daryl," Paul patted his shoulder before going back to his bed, "Try to get some sleep."
Daryl laid back, sleep was a few hours off but when he did slip under, he didn't dream.
-----------------------
Daryl knew that Rick often teased that he was like a stray dog. Feed him or show him any attention and Daryl would follow you for life. Daryl's face burned from the implication but he was man enough to know it was true. So, Daryl tried to not be so obvious when he hung around Paul more and more.
The scout would brighten whenever he came over, a sight that made Daryl's stomach lurch in a somehow good way. It wasn't one-sided however, Daryl often found Paul placing himself at Daryl's side. Daryl wasn't dumb either, he knew Paul took interest in him. He felt those seafoam eyes following him everywhere he went, he knew that the younger man stood and sat much too close to him but Daryl never pushed him away.
Very quickly they became a twosome, where one was the other surely had to be there. So, when Rick's big plan had them in different places they glanced at each other in unison. Paul's eyebrows going up as Daryl chewed his lip. Daryl wouldn't fight Rick on his plan, it was a good one and Daryl didn't want anyone but him at the leader's side. Paul knew he had to stay with Maggie then go to the satellite station, he knew the lay out.  
So even though they were uneasy neither of them fought their placement. The night before it all started; before Daryl would head out to take care of his assigned outpost guard then meet up with the others on the herd the air was tense. No one was getting any sleep, the night seeming to move by too fast. Daryl and Paul barely spoke as they sat in the trailer. Daryl was leaving before dawn, his bike prepped for the long day ahead.  
It felt like the last time Daryl might be in the trailer, his white band standing out on his arm. Paul's green one just as stark; they had different homes but somehow it didn't feel that way. Daryl knew he was going back to Alexandria when this was all said and done, one way or another. He just wasn't sure if it would feel the same, would any place without the annoy ninja feel right now?  
Daryl moved slow when it was time for him to go. Daryl swung his bow onto his back as Paul walked up to him where he stood by the door. Paul reached up, tucking his bangs out of his face which was a habit the man had developed that Daryl never found the time to discourage, "Is this goodbye?"
It was a question that had hung in the air all night. No one knew what the next day would bring. In all reality they all could be dead before noon. Daryl chewed his lip with a shrug, "Maybe."
Paul nodded with a somber smile and Daryl couldn't help pushing his long hair back over his shoulder where it slipped with the movement. Fingers lingered just a moment in the soft locks. Daryl didn't know when casually touching Paul became so easy but it felt right in that moment. Paul's eyes were deep blue as they bounced over Daryl's face, Daryl's own following Paul's tongue as it ran over his lips in a quick motion.
"Do it. Take a chance, I'm begging you," Paul whispered stepping into Daryl's space, their chest bumping as Paul looked up at him, "You don't want to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been. How it could've felt, to kiss me just once."
Daryl didn't like the implication that Paul wouldn't make it past the coming day and he might. That caused a small fire in his belly that made Daryl find the will the throw caution to the wind. Daryl's fingers were still in Paul's hair so it took nothing to cup the back of his head. Paul rising on his toes as Daryl leaned in, the first touch making their lips tingle.
Daryl hadn't kissed a lot of people but he knew this was the best one he ever had. Paul's lips were soft as the first gentle peck shifted to something deeper. Their beards scraped pleasantly and all Daryl could smell was the soft linen scent that clung to the ninja. Paul leaned back first, Daryl almost chasing his mouth but stopping himself.
Paul's bottom lip was red as he smiled, "Now, I know."
Daryl still held him close as he raised an eyebrow, "Know what?"
"What to look forward to when I see you later." Paul spoke so surely, like he knew they would both be fine. There was no other option but for them to return to each other, where one was the other surely was too, after all.
"Yeah," Daryl stole one more kiss before stepping back to open the door, "See ya later, Paul."
Paul was still smiling long after Daryl's bike faded into the distance. Daryl had taken a lot of chances in his life, but Paul Rovia was probably the best one.  
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You’re Wasting Away Chapter 3
Here is chapter 3. 
This is a big headcannon of mine, that Daryl taught Carol to defend herself on the road. I know Rick would have been involved too but I like to ignore that lol. I like to think that it was Daryl’s teaching that turned Carol into such a good fighter and shot. 
Also, I’d like to note that I’m aware Carol doesn’t get her signature knife until after she gets lost in the tombs in Season 3. I’m taking a bit of liberty here by introducing it like this instead. Hope you don’t mind :) 
This is also Carol’s first walker kill! 
Description: Daryl gives Carol a knife and teaches her how to use it. Then, she gets the chance to test out her new skills.
You’re Wasting Away
“So, you wanna make sure you hold it tight. The knuckle grip’ll help but you don’t wanna rely on it,” Daryl instructed as he held her hand in his.
 Carol tried her best to think methodically about it.
She couldn’t help enjoying how surprisingly gentle his touch was. It was contradictory to the front he always presented, same as when he gave her the Cherokee rose.
It had taken little time for her to realise that behind his hard exterior was a gentle soul.
The knife was in her hand, her fingers through the holes of the grip.
He had manoeuvred her hand to grip it tighter than she had been.
It was, admittedly, a little uncomfortable, but she hoped it would become more natural as she gained experience.
 “Alright. How does that feel?” he asked as he let go of her.
 “Okay, I guess. Feels a little weird, but that’s probably because I’m not used to it,” she responded honestly.
He nodded understandingly.
She was glad he was being patient with her.
 “That’s okay. The good thing is we got a whole group with us. If and when we find walkers, we’ll get some practice in for you.”
 “Thanks again for this. I know it must be a pain, but I appreciate it.”
 “Ain’t no bother to me. You listen well so you ain’t making it hard.”
 She felt pride bloom at his praise despite his offhand tone.
She wanted him to be proud of her because his opinion mattered. She wanted to show him that she had more use than just cooking and cleaning. He seemed to have faith that she could do it so she would try her best to prove him right.
 He took the knife from her then and slid it into its sheath. He handed her the completed piece.
 “Clip that to your belt and make sure its above your clothes so you got easy access,” he instructed as she took it from him.
 She hastened to follow his direction, clipping the knife in place on her hip. She tucked her shirt behind it and looked up at him for approval.
He nodded with a small upward tilt to his mouth.
 The rest of the group was sitting around waiting to get moving again.
Rick had gone on ahead with Glenn to check out the road and look for a possible safe house for the night.
Daryl had, of course, offered to go with them, but Rick had told him to stay back and keep an eye on everyone.
Daryl had used the opportunity to take her aside and start teaching her about knives, gifting her one of her own.
 Carol leaned back against the parked bike and watched Daryl as he began pacing the perimeter once more.
She was pleasantly surprised that he still allowed her to ride with him. She had begun to wonder when he would tell her to find another ride. She had thought he would appreciate the space without her. But he had not told her any such thing. She knew that she was welcome to ride with any of the others. She just felt safer with Daryl.
 It was also beginning to become clear to herself that she harboured a bit of a crush on the hunter.
She snorted to herself. Crush? What was she, in elementary school?
 “What?” Daryl questioned as he passed her.
She blushed and smiled tightly.
“Nothing, just lost in thought.”
 He eyed her for a moment before he shrugged and turned his attention back to the area.
 She sighed, rolling her eyes at herself.
They didn’t have time for this stuff anyway. They needed to focus on surviving.
Besides, he wouldn’t be interested in her like that.
 ---
 Rick and Glenn had returned and informed everyone that they had found a house. Rick told them to wait back while he and some of the others cleared it first.
 The ‘others’ he meant included Glenn, T Dog, Maggie and Daryl.
Carol had been ready to head over to stand with Hershel, Beth and Lori, but Daryl snagged her arm on her way.
 “You wanna get some practice in?” he asked with a pointed look at her knife.
She couldn’t help the swell of anxiety inside her at the thought of confronting walkers, but she nodded her head quickly.
 “You stay close to me and keep that knife up,” he instructed as she followed at his side.
Rick gave them a curious glance but said nothing as they moved toward the house.
 It was a quaint, suburban home that once upon a time must have been charming to behold. It resembled nothing of that now.
The front yard was in ruin.
The lawn was strewn with bloody clothes and corpses. The flowers had been torn from their original beds and were decayed on the ground. The once chipper yellow paint on the weatherboard of the house was chipped and peeling and stained with unnamed fluids.
 They stood against either side of the front door.
Rick, Glenn and T Dog on the left and Maggie, Daryl and herself on the right.
Her heart was beating so hard.
She was thankful that there was no evidence that walkers had advanced hearing.
 Rick looked each of them in the eye, even Carol herself, which made her feel strangely joyful. Probably because it made her feel like she was essential.
 She saw Daryl nod at Rick out of the corner of her eye.
Rick reached forward, turned the door handle and pushed it with one hand, the other holding his colt.
Glenn banged loudly on the door frame and they waited, listening.
There was no response so, with another glance to the group, Rick led the way inside.
Carol stuck as close as possible to Daryl’s back.
 Rick made some strange hand motions that she didn’t understand, but of course, Daryl did.
Daryl pushed her shoulder gently and indicated with his head towards the first room in the hallway.
She followed carefully, trying not to crowd him. She didn’t want something to happen to him if she accidentally distracted him.
 Daryl opened the door quickly and aimed his bow left and right as he stepped inside.
Carol shuffled in after him, clenching her knife tightly.
The room was empty, and her shoulders slumped in relief.
She kept expecting a walker to pop out from every corner and she knew she needed to calm down. Panicking was only going to make her a liability.
 After examining the room for any potential threat, Daryl turned to glance at her.
His eyes held a question and she nodded to him to say that, yes, she was okay.
Satisfied with her response, he indicated with his head for her to follow him. He led her over to the door across the room.
 He pushed it open and she followed closely.
She heard it before she saw it.
The growls and snarls made her heart jump.
Stupidly she waited for Daryl to take the walker down with his arrow as normal. Instead he lowered his bow completely.
The walker had been a man, but, as was the normal for them, it was practically unrecognisable as a human being.
 He urged her forward and she inched closer nervously.
 “You wanna aim for the eye socket, that’s a sure kill. Can’t always be sure their skulls are soft enough,” Daryl informed her, keeping his attention on the walker that approached slowly.
She gulped and winced at his words.
Her stomach turned at the thought of stabbing it at all. She shook the feeling away. She needed to be strong now.
 “Okay,” she replied in a shaky voice.
 Daryl gripped her shoulder gently making her look over at him with wide eyes.
 “You good?” he asked in a concerned tone, looking her up and down.
She worried her lip, unsure whether she was or not.
 “I’m right here, alright?” he reminded her, squeezing her shoulder gently.
She swallowed thickly and nodded.
Already she felt better with the reassurance.
Carol lifted her knife and edged closer to the walker.
 It was snapping it’s jaws eagerly as it ambled forward, only metres away.
She was soon face to face with the walker, her nose screwing up as the scent of its rotting body hit her nose.
She thrust her knife forward aiming for the gaping hole of its eye socket, where the eyeball had already rotted away.
It sunk it slowly, making a squelching noise, which made her stomach roll.
She kept pushing the blade until she felt the corpse stop moving.
She wrenched her arm back, her knife coming out of the walker.
It slumped to the ground with a thud.
 She stood staring down at the unmoving thing on the floor in wonder.
She had killed a walker.
It felt strange to acknowledge it.
Every time they ever had confronted walkers before now, one of the others would deal with it. She had never had an opportunity to even try before.
 “Hey, you okay?” she heard from behind her and she realised that she had forgotten about Daryl’s presence. She turned around.
He was watching her closely, scrutinising her.
“I’m fine.”
 He nodded but still looked worried.
 “You sure?”
 Carol nodded and then she grinned. She let out a breathy laugh.
 “I’m better than fine. I killed a walker!” she cried as the weight of the statement hit her.
Daryl’s mouth turned up a little.
 “Yeah, you did. You did good,” he complimented her, and she beamed.
His praise meant a lot to her.
 “Thanks,” she said shyly, now feeling a little foolish for her glee.
Killing walkers was old news to him.
He only nodded, avoiding her gaze.
 “Come on, there might be more. Let’s go find the others.”
 She straightened her back and brought her knife back up to the ready as she followed him out of the room.
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