Val’s Edits

The Boys

Most Marvel (Avengers, Spiderman, Venom, Deadpool, X-Men, Guardians, the movies and some of the tv shows Wandavision and Winter & Falcon)

The Bear

Supernatural (only confident up to like season 9ish😅)

Teen Wolf

Game of Thrones

The Walking Dead (up to Negan introduction)

Some DC. (Peacemaker, Harley Quinn/Birds of Prey, some batfam)

Most Disney movies

Once Upon a Time (up to Anna/Elsa intro)

What We Do In The Shadows

Fallout Tv Show

Shadowhunters (tv show)

Heathers (movie and musical<3)

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Norseman (Netflix Tv Show)

Abbott Elementary

Adventure Time

Strawberry Shortcake

Superstore

Twilight

One Punch Man

Ouran Highschool Host Club

Beetlejuice (movie)

Hunger Games

Kingsman

Saltburn

Resident Evil (limited knowledge. Mostly just a Ethan Winters lover)

Creepypasta and SCP (knowledge depends on the chara lol)

The Umbrella Academy (S1-2)

It's obvious by Shaggy’s expression his thin resolve was slipping away at the suggestion. His mind was working overtime to create excuses for why they might be able to get away with one bite. 

“I… yeah… Haha! They won't notice one little nibble.”

Scooby excitedly bounces on his paws back and forth, eagerly cheering on his best friend figuring things out for their mischievous behavior. “Mmmhm! Mmhm! Wont know!”

“But it has to be small. A tiny, little taste test-like nibble–” Shaggy trails off as they both inch forward, drool hanging from their lips, burger hearts in their eyes, jaws and teeth slowly extending with cartoonish exaggeration. Making it seem as if they truly would only take a miniscule bite… but at the last second their impulsivity rears its tasty head and their jaws drop to the ground with a loud anvil sound, ready to vacuum in the entire feast they prepared. 

However before they could fill their bellies with more food than a probably 50 people together could eat, there's a loud crash that shakes the very ground they stand on. The two food freak’s jaws roll back into place like window blinds, their teeth shuttering together for a few seconds before they look at each other with wide eyes to check if the other heard that too.

Fred, Daphne, and Velma in tow all come running to the back of the van, confirming to the two that still stood there in fear that something bad indeed definitely happened.

“Are you guys okay?! We heard something crash!” Fred exclaims with a slight breathiness to his voice showing he had run their way, the boy always worried about his friends and their safety.

“Yeah! It shook the ground! What happened?” Daphne chimed in afterwards, Velma’s hand intertwined in hers to keep her safely beside them and in sight. Not that there wasn't any chance that Velma wouldn't have come with to investigate.

“Like… it wasn't us!”

“Then what was it?”

The ground rumbles louder than the first crash was–no– not louder… closer. It rattles the ground enough to trigger the van’s alarm system causing the hazards to flash along with the headlights which perfectly illuminate the source of the chaos. 

A giant ugly mole is erupting from the ground, upending some playground equipment, and throwing it a few feet away where it crashed into other damaged equipment that had received the same treatment moments ago.

Daphne gasps and gives a small surprised shriek, both her and Fred’s protective instincts kicking in like a mother with an adrenaline spike. Velma’s feet leave the ground with a little dust cloud as she's yanked right into Daphne’s arms. She would say they were safe and comforting but the caregiver was currently sort of… squeezing her very spirit out in an attempt to shield her behind Fred…who was standing there in front of them with a fearful but determined expression as he… also acted as a human shield. 

Meanwhile Scooby had jumped straight into Shaggy's arms, not giving him the option of holding and protecting him while they screamed louder than the alarm system’s horn going off, “GIANT RAAAAAT–!”

Fearfully curious about what was going on, Velma manages to peek over Daphne’s shoulder and sees the mole look in their direction through the flashing lights. Her eyes widen, the red hazard lights reflecting in her glasses before blinking out for a split second leaving them all in that momentary darkness before once again illuminating the scene in front of them… except… suspiciously without a certain giant mole.

Velma perks up, squirming in Daphne’s arms until she was half draped over her shoulder energetically pointing over at the hole in the ground as she eagerly states out in clumsy speech, “Look! Look! All gone!”

Fred briefly glances back at them while Daphne gently wrestles with Velma, afraid that while she was in a headspace that made her much more clumsy than usual she would go try to investigate the dangerous destruction with the kaiju of moles out there. 

“No– she's right! Look! It's gone! It fled!” Fred exclaims, but still feeling cautious he steps inside the van, turning off the alarm system, and turning on the headlights that way there was one strong unwavering beam shining out instead of flashing ones.

Shaggy and Scooby were still shaking in their boots but were definitely relieved that the monster was gone. “Like– it destroyed some of the playground! We hadn't even got to try any of it yet!”

“Ohhh…! What're we going to do now?” Daphne exclaims, still holding Velma back and feeling just as concerned as Shaggy about their friend’s little weekend being ruined. 

“Hm.. no worries, guys! We’ll just call the authorities! They'll figure it out while we use the rest of the playground.” Fred suggests from inside the van, his mind racing as he runs over what just happened. 

“You mean… you don't want us to like…” Shaggy tentatively asks, looking at Scooby before setting him on the ground. They share a look to remind each other they hadn't said the m word yet and…maybe… just maybe that new superstition was why Fred was uncharacteristically suggesting someone other than their group figures out the strange occurrence. 

“To what?” Fred asks, too distracted with dialing on the car phone to realize what they were suggesting. Velma understands though and she keeps pointing towards the mystery. 

The mystery that was just dying for her to solve it! It didn't matter that her mind was a little fuzzier and she couldn't get all the words out she wanted because she was little– she could solve it! She knew she could! She was the smartest little girl ever! Her friends always told her so. 

“Mole! Da mole! Freddyyy! I can do it! I can!” she excitedly offers with a tint of a whine to her voice since Daphne was preventing her from going and playing around by the– er… investigating the scene. 

Seemingly understanding, but definitely miss-hearing her, Fred speaks while the phone rings, “Holes? Ohhh! You're right, bookworm, we’ll have to move camp now. Daph, do you think you can pop your tent down before the authorities arrive?”

“Of course! You think I only know how to build? Ha! I still have some bobby pins and mortar left. I can get it packed up if Shaggy and Scooby watch Velma– she’s…" She gives a small grunt as Velma stomps her feet a bit while trying to free herself, that frustrated flush blooming under her freckles from being misunderstood and banned from investigating. “Oh darling… You're really upset about this, aren't you?” the redhead coos, gently but firmly dragging her to the back of the van where Shaggy and Scooby were starting to pack up the food, wanting it to be as safe, secure, and very far away from any monsters.

“Course we’ll keep an eye on her!”

“We’re weliable!” Scooby chimes in with a firm nod, looking proud and very excited that they were going to simply… ignore what happened and flee elsewhere! Somewhere they could eat all that food in peace!

Velma whines unhappily and drags her feet, keeping her eyes on the destruction left behind until she couldn't see it anymore. Daph lifts her the short couple inches up into the van, sitting her down on the edge where she thought the pouty girl would be safe.

Standing tall like a well-trained guard dog, Scooby marches back and forth in front of Velma while Shaggy does all the work of packing away the food. With her head in her hand, she swings her feet off the end of the van, watching Scooby with pouty disinterest… but after a few more dramatic struts past her, a smile cracks at the corner of her mouth which is quickly followed by little giggles and grabby hands becoming out stretched, needing to scritchy-scratch his fur. 

He breaks his soldier-like character, falling sideways to lean against her knees heavily while she attacks his back with clumsy loving pets. Scooby was dramatic about most things… everything actually and pets were no different. With a big grin on his face, he stomps his back feet back and forth when his hips are pet, gives little howls when she gets the back of his ears, briefly turns into a cat with the way he purrs as his chin is scratched, and wiggles around in an attempt to guide her hands to the right spot when she scratches around his ribs. 

Each silly behavior makes her giggle more until she's slipped off the end of the van and is jogging a few feet away to grab a stick. Scooby playfully chases after her, his eyes going wide with delight at the sight of the impromptu toy. He gives a doggie play bow and wiggles his butt, tail wagging so hard it was basically a propeller as she waves the stick up high before throwing it. 

His legs do their little running in place, circling around like a flintstone character, winding him up to then jet off at inhuman speed as he chases after the stick. Velma squeals softly at the sight, giggling then running after him as her little brain forgets the two rules to fetch. That being the human throws and the dog brings it back. 

But who cares about those rules when having fun is the ultimate number one?

She chases after Scooby, the poor dog so lasered in on retrieving that he runs right past the destruction without any fear. He scoops up the stick and turns around to happily prance back to Velma but instead bumps right into her.

She falls back onto her butt while Scooby shakes the dizzy birds off his head. “Relma?” he asks, looking around to check that he hadn't somehow already ran back to their starting place. Realizing where they were and the fact she had followed him, fear spiked under his fur. He could only imagine the horrors of what could happen next: the monster could come back, Daphne could get disappointed in him for not keeping a good eye on Velma, the monster could come back, Shaggy could eat all the food while he isn't looking, the monster could–

Velma feels around for her glasses that had seemingly gotten knocked off when she landed, but her hand found a puddle of… something black and… gooey. She pulls her hand up close to her face to try squinting at the mysterious substance, rubbing it between her fingers curiously. 

Scooby dives down towards Velma before she could get too into her investigating, his nose basically dragging on the ground to get under her butt to scoop her up and toss her onto his back as he peels out of there, running back to the safety of the van. 

“Woah! Jinkies!” Velma calls out in surprise, fumbling to grab onto some part of Scooby for some stability and wiping most of the gunk off onto his fur. Although getting a hold of anything was a bit difficult when riding him backwards.

Scooby comes to a screeching halt behind Shaggy, accidentally launching his rider into his best friend’s back. The two tumble to the ground like falling cards, Shaggy luckily taking the brunt of it and saving Velma from any more boo-boos. 

“Zoinks–!” Shaggy yells as he falls, pancaked onto the ground then groaning out, “oww… Scooby what in the world was that, man–??”

Velma sits up, glasses that had merely been bumped up onto her forehead earlier fall back down to her face. while getting her bearings she looks at Scooby who still had the stick grit in his teeth, panting around it as he too got his bearings. It took her little brain a moment to figure out whether she should cry or not but with no one fussing over her and spurring on fear-tears by asking if she was alright, she ended up falling into a small fit of giggles.

“Again! Again!” she cheers out, crawling off Shaggy and stumbling towards Scooby with the hope of getting another doggy ride. 

“Again? What's my little miss asking to do again?” Daphne asks as she comes back over, pausing by the van to lift the tents onto the roof only to gasp at the sight of Shaggy on the ground and Scooby all dirty. “Were you two rough housing with my sweet baby? Don't you know better than that?”

“Now like hold on a minute–” Shaggy starts to say as his faithful dog used his stick to scrape him off the ground like he was a hamburger stuck to the grill.

But Daphne doesn't wait for an answer, instead she tugs her pretty baby brunette away from Scooby before she could climb on his back for another ride. “Thats it. You three don't get to be alone anymore. You’ll have to have a babysitter to babysit her.”

“But– Daphieeee!”

“No, no. I won't hear it. You don't need to defend them. You're way too little to wrestle with big kids like them.”

Velma whines and stomps her feet. She wasn't getting to do anything! She couldn't investigate the hole. She couldn't ride on Scooby. Heck now she was banned from wrestling and she didn't even know how she managed that! She hadn't even brought a costume cause she hadn't realized that could've even been an option this weekend!

“But I like wrestling!”

“I know… I know…” Daphne sighs out, feeling a pang of guilt for setting these kinds of rules within the first hour of them being here. She reaches out and cups Velma’s cheek, petting over it reassuringly, “I’m sorry, bookworm… but it's just too dangerous for you when you're like this… How about this? I’ll pull out some of your action figures and you can make them wrestle in the front seats while we drive to a new spot?”

Velma huffs then pushes up her glasses as she looks down at the grass a bit defeated. “...yeah…okay. Did… did you um… pack Mankind? Or Bull Nakano? Or Trish–”

“Yes.. yes I got a lot of the girls.” she assures her as she takes her hand to walk her to the front of the van, feeling a little relieved that she was able to distract her at least slightly, “wait– which one is Mankind? The gross one with the sock on his hand?”

Ohhhh that pacifier. 

It had been missing since they left and no one else that lived in the tower had seen it nor was it anywhere to be found in the small apartment you shared with the two men.

You hadn't been as bothered by its disappearance the first day. Mildly annoyed and inconvenience– yes. But it hadn't felt like an end of the world situation. You figured you could hold off your headspace for a few days until you found it or until the boys came back.

By the third day you had torn the apartment apart, turned the tower bedrooms upside down, and looked through every crack and crevice of the common room for it. 

The others keep trying to reassure you that you would find it or that you could just get another one but–no! No way! You couldn't just– they didn't understand!! It was so important! Your caregivers had gotten you that specific pacifier! And it meant everything to you! You always knew where it was and always used it when you regressed and– and… and you couldn't sleep without it! Not while they were gone!!

You needed to have something tangible from them that was sentimental or else… or else it meant you might not love them or they’ll hate you for not appreciating the gifts they got you and that just wasn't true because you loved it but by the stuffies– you just didn't know where it was!!

No matter how much their friends tried. Soft lights, gentle lullabies, good cuddleable toys… one of Steve's stinky sweatshirts not yet washed free of his scent… a lot of warm milk and sleepy time teas… nothing. You wouldn't sleep. You wouldn't stop having uncontrollable bouts of sobbing. Always wailing about the missing pacifier or wanting Steve and Bucky back.

It had reached a point Bruce was considering giving you a sedative for your own health. But lucky for everyone your perfect, loving, and incredibly hardworking caregivers came back early from their mission. 

Unfortunate for them that they didn't receive as cheerful of a welcome back from their sweet kiddo as they had expected. Instead you barreled into their arms, red in the face with extra dark eyebags that rivaled Bucky’s on his worst days and a throat so sore from wailing that you sounded like a radio station with a bad connection. All crackles and coughs as you babble out apologies and pleas, anything for them to never leave again. 

“Woah..! woah woah! Okay. hold on– why are you crying, bug?” Steve kneeled down, letting his bag drop from his shoulder to the floor as he hugs you close, rubbing your back as you keep sobbing out words that were too garbled to be understood. He looks up at a very exhausted but relieved looking Nat and Bruce and asks again, “what happened?”

“Lost pacifier on day one.” she starts.

“Hasnt slept since.” the other finishes.

Bucky’s brows furrow slightly at the news then shares a look with Steve who understands but also looks visibly a bit guilty. He turns his head back to you as Buck fishes around in his pocket, “Hey, bug… Stevie’s got somethin to tell you. Okay? Are you listening? Can you look at me?”

Bucky pulls out the pacifier in question out and uses the cleaner part of his sleeve to wipe off the nipple as Steve keeps going in that soft voice of his. “I must have accidentally packed it in our things out of habit before we left…he’s kept it safe in his pocket the whole time just waiting to give it back to you.”

Bucky squats down to be at eye level with the two of you as he holds the pacifier out towards your face, “Yeah, bug. Here. Look. All safe… and ready to join you for a nap.”

“All of us for a nap. What do you think?” Steve asks, silently trying to convey to his partner that he also needed some solid rest. 

You look at the pacifier that had caused you so much grief for so long with such shock and confusion it nearly stopped your crying all at once. Your arms relaxed from their death grip around the blond’s shoulders, no longer digging into him like you were trying to physically carve handles into him so you would never be able to be pried off again. 

You just couldn't believe that… that they had it the whole time. 

They kept it safe. 

They… they had taken a piece of you with them. Even if it was an accident they had still purposely kept it on them the whole time they were gone. Keeping it safe. Sleeping with it in their hands like they sometimes did when it fell from your mouth at night and… and never forgetting you. 

“Yeah… Its been a long week for all of us.” Buck agrees with that soft rumbled voice, gently tapping the pacifier to your mouth as you continue to look at it in disbelief. “We definitely deserve a nap.”

Your tears fill your eyes back up, looking up at him like he was something descending down from your best, most unbelievable dreams. You swore you could almost see a halo of light illuminating him. Well.. okay maybe it was the lights glinting off his metal arm but still– it was magical.

“Y…you… Bubby… n Sevie keped it… f’me?” you rasp out on the verge of bawling again, this time from the overwhelming feeling of… being seen and loved. 

“What did you think we would do with it? Can’t modify it to be a weapon when it's our best baby’s favorite binky, can we?” he jokes, his brows furrowing just lightly together in bewilderment as he watches you choke out a sob then start wailing again. He would've thought that teasing you would've made you feel… better. Not worse.

His looks between you and the only man that could see the twinge of worry hidden behind his features and asks, “What did I do?”

“Nothing. I think our kid’s simply tired…” Steve grunts softly as he stands up, bringing you with him. “And happy we're back.”

You reach out to grab Bucky's wrist before you and Steve are all the way up, pulling his hand closer to take the pacifier in your mouth and making him stand with you two. He holds it there for a couple moments to keep it from falling out of your mouth each time you have to suck in a breath or sob again. 

You three stand there for a minute, captain caregiver gently bouncing or rocking you while the ever dutiful brunette keeps your pacifier in place until you start to calm down enough to keep it there without help. By then you couldn’t hardly keep your eyes open no matter how much you wanted to make sure they wouldn't leave you the moment you drifted off. 

Today was no different. He took a deep breath as he unlocked the door, already hearing your sweet little excited screams and laughter that only became louder as he stepped inside far enough to see Dick pushing you around in a laundry basket in the transformed living room. He makes train noises and skirts you precariously close around diy obstacles to make you giggle and shriek more, not noticing Jason yet due to how good he was at being stealthy.

Along with his perfectly nice new rocking chair being used as one of the obstacles, Jason could see candy, popcorn, half-drunk baby bottles, and way too many toys littered around the room. Making it look as if there had been a massive rager of a party in the few hours he'd been gone. 

He leans on the doorway as his gaze wanders away from the mess to watch you two for a few moments, feeling a mix of fondness and genuine bewilderment over how you two could create such a mess in such little time. 

After Grayson makes you crash into the pile of sofa cushions, sending them toppling to the floor, Jason clears his throat to get both of your attention. Both of you whip your head around to look back at him, giggle fits paused to register who had silently snuck up on them. 

Upon the sight of your caregiver standing there with his usual stoic, resting-grump expression, your face breaks right back into a massive smile of pure love for the man that everyone else feared so much. You squeal out nonsense babble, attempting to crawl out of the basket while your hands outstretch towards him, a recipe practically promising you would fall on your face if someone didn't help you.

Seeing your cute baby giddiness for him, Jason's mouth quirks up in a small smile and crosses the room while Dick helps lift you out of the basket while also making sure you don't lose your balance. 

He carefully steps over mess after mess to make sure he doesn't break any of your toys–luckily he had his boots still on so he wouldn't get something lodged in his foot this time. Reaching you before you have to crawl very far, he kneels down and holds his arms out.

“Hey kid…” He greets you, helping keep you stable as you practically try to climb him. The excitement that blew up in your chest upon seeing him filling you with the overwhelming need to both give and get as much affection from your favorite person as you could get. 

You babble nonsense, the only words anyone is vaguely able to make out is the nickname you call him while regressed to which Jason gives a quiet breathy laugh, responding to what he thought you were trying to convey. “Yeah… I know. I'm back. I'm home. You missed me plenty, huh? Mmhm. I hear ya kid.. You’re real little right now. Younger than I left you.”

He rubs your back then adjusts how he's positioned on the floor to sit you more comfortably in his lap while you keep babbling. Your hand now coming up to lightly paw at his uniform. He glances up at Dick, now crisscross on the floor in front of them, seeing him munch on one of the candies that had been scattered on the floor. 

Jason raises an eyebrow at him, glancing around the living room turned… whatever this was then continues pretending to be your interpreter so he could get some sort of legitimate answer from Dick, “So… sounds like the kid’s tellin me you two had… fun.” 

His brother grins slightly, popping another floor candy in his mouth, his consciousness apparently free from guilt. “Yeah. Babies know how to have fun.”

“Oh you're saying the baby came up with all this?” he says sarcastically, gesturing vaguely to the candy they both knew fully well had not been stocked in Jason's place for a kid to have casually found.

Grayson laughs a bit and shrugs as you babble out something to participate in the conversation, “Hear that? They're taking responsibility.”

Jason scoffs out a laugh and shakes his head, turning his smile down at you and softening his voice a little more as he asks, “Is that what you're doing? Huh? Or are you tattling on Uncle Dickhead?” 

You giggle and shake your hands happily, looking between the two of them as you recognize enough words to know your carer was talking about Grayson. You point at him to prove you knew that word, looking at Jason for approvable which he instantly gives with amused pride. 

“It was Uncle? He destroyed the whole place and you were such a good kid who would neeeever participate in his shenanigans? Oh I knew it! Good job! Yeaaah! Good job, baby!”

“Thats not fair! You're manipulating their love for you and their babyspace!”

“I would never. I believe in letting kids make their own choices no influencing the decsion.” Jason shoots him a playfully evil look then whispers to you while not so subtly pointing to himself, “who do you like better, hm? Me or your stinky uncle? Me right?”

“What?? You can't ask that! What are you– hey! Little bird. Look at me! Look at uncle! You loooove your uncle yeah? I let you skip naptime and eat a lot of junk food and I even drove you around in your own basket train!”

Jason whispers the little nickname you gave him a few times for extra insurance you would choose him… since he was pretty sure you didn't even fully know what they were playfully arguing over you to do… but you would no doubt respond to your favorite words. 

His plan successfully gets your attention, your gaze no longer flipping between them curiously. You giggle as you look at Jason then reach up to paw at his face, fingers clumsily grabbing near his mouth where the words you liked hearing the most were coming from.

He pretends to try eating your fingers and you squeal softly, pulling them away but watching him with rapt attention to see what he would do next. With a bigger smile on his face–one he usually kept mostly between you and him–he proudly states to Grayson who had to quickly turn his admiration from watching the soft moment between you two into pretend sulking. “I win. You know what that means.”

“Yeah… okay okay. I'm going.” Grayson groans and stands up, Jason helping you stand up and walk by letting you stand on his feet and keeping you upright with his arms wrapped around you. 

He walks Grayson to the door, your gaze fixed your two feet and the way Jason sort of waddles to move each of your legs with his. 

He opens the door and uses your arms to gesture in an exaggerated way outwards while playfully delivering in a dry tone to his brother, “Get out of my house.”

“I’m out. I’m gone.” Grayson holds his hands up in surrender as he walks out of the door, briefly pausing to break his act to give you an actual goodbye. He kisses your cheek and whispers to you before giving his little brother a wave as well, "I had fun, kiddo. Don't be too good for Jason while I'm gone.” 

Jason closes the door behind him and walks you back to the living room, groaning dramatically about how heavy your feet felt standing on his, “I mean… we gotta teach you how to walk soon. Or just how to crawl faster.”

You tilt your head back to try looking at him, babbling nonsense back that he shrugs at, “Cause I’m not Superman, bud. I’m only going to pick you up when I absolutely have to. Or… when I'm training and you're big enough to have fun being tossed around.”

He carefully sits you down on the floor, grabbing the couch cushions and placing them back where they're supposed to be. You whine at first when you're separated but stop when he softly chastises you, “woah. No. No whining unless we're hurt.” he gives you a tired but still stern look until you stop, mostly out of innocent confusion for what garnered that look. 

Ultimately you choose to crawl your way right in front of his feet to get his attention but after he tucks the last cushion in he simply… steps around you and nabs the blanket off the tv. You make another noise at being ignored and toss a toy in his direction then bounce on your knees while lightly smacking your hands on the floor to try getting him to come over and play.

“You throwing stuff at me now? Listen, little bird… I don't want to get into a fight tonight with you. So you better make the next shot worth it cause I’ll swaddle you so tight in this blanket so you can't do it a third time.”

You make soft hum noises and keep smacking your hands on the floor to keep his attention on you. You just wanted to keep the playtime going like with Uncle Grayson… but Jason knew well enough by the way your hands were subtly vibrating and the fact his brother said that you missed your nap… you would be crashing soon. Just like he would since he was running out of leftover adrenaline from his mission.

He tosses the blanket over your head for good measure on his threat then looks around for the tv remote so you both could have some time to… relax and wind down before putting you to bed. You squawk at the blanket landing over you and clumsily pull it off, making sure to let him know about your displeasure that he mimics softly during his search. 

“Mmm bahbah ehhhyeah yeah I know– give me a moment.” He finally finds the remote in the tipped over bowl of popcorn and vaguely wipes it off on his pants before coming over to collapse onto the couch. “Okay… c’mere kid. It's getting close to your bedtime… in… a few hours.”

You look at him with a mixture of excitement and frustration. Because he WAS home but he WASN'T playing with you. And that just wasn't fair. You made a little displeased noise as he pats the couch, expecting you to climb up as if you weren't some poor little helpless baby that couldn't even walk on your own without help! How could he expect you to do anything on your own without his busted beefy arms picking you up?

You pout at him and lightly smack the couch to sort of mimic him. He tilts his head slightly, trying to not show his amusement at your frustration. Because it wasn't funny that you were slowly getting tired and irritated but it was funny to see you trying to argue through babble along with those clumsy hand flaps. “What? What's that look for? Hm? Climb up here.”

You were losing your giddy little kid patience, not realizing you had begun to grow tired without any more candy to keep your sugar high going. You move a little closer to the couch just to drape as much as yourself as you could without raising off your knees, your cheek resting on the cushion to pout at him. 

“Awwha..” he coo laughs at your pitiful performance a bit sarcastically, “are you too little, huh? Are you too little and the couch too tall?” You make a soft extra pitiful whine and he grins softly at you with a head shake, finally leaning towards you. “You need help?”

He gives a soft chuckle then reaches out for you, “alright.. Poor baby. Up you go.” he hoists you up onto his lap, moving the blanket to rest around your shoulders but you squirm until it's off again. You still wanted to play… as evident by the toy you had snagged off the floor right before he hoisted you up. 

You bounce in his lap, babbling again with the expectation he would join you. But he gives you a slightly tired look and doesn't coo back to you, instead trying to limit your bouncing. After a minute, your babbles turned more grumpy and insistent, demanding he play with his favorite baby!

“Baby– I know. Okay? I know you want to play. But… I'm running on empty.. And I think you are too so– wait– no– don’t–” You insistently keep bouncing, now shaking the toy in his face and he grunts softly from frustration. 

He takes a breath to stay stern instead of angry. “No. No play.” he says firmly, gently pushing the toy to your chest to make sure he got through to you even through your current limited vocab.

The rejection hurts your chest and makes you pause, looking at him with slight despair, like him not wanting to keep the whole day full of playtime was a sort of betrayal. He sighs and gently tries to tug you forward to lay down against him but you don't go right away, a pout forming on your lips along with some watery eyes. He starts to shake his head with a grimace, “No… don't cry either… I didn't mean to make you cry… I'm just tired. And I know you're tired too. Aren't you kiddo?”

He wipes his thumb under your eyes where the tears haven’t quite fallen yet, a silent promise to wipe them when they do and to give you a gentle touch to let you focus on while he speaks real softly to you again, “Yeah… are you so tired? I can see it. Dick didn't put you down for a nap and fed you too much candy… now you're so sleepy.”

You start to nod a little with him, liking the sounds of him talking and reassuring you about how tired you were. And you know what? You were feeling a little tired now that he mentioned it. Almost overwhelmingly so. It made the tears feel hotter and you give a small breathy sob. 

“Let's have some quiet time.. Okay? Yeah. Wind down. No more play tonight. Let's get you calm and ready for bed.” This time when he tugs you forward you cuddle into his chest to have a brief quiet cry.  “Oof.. yeah. There you go.”

He rubbed your back for a few minutes to calm down the crying he knew was mostly from you being regressed so little. Babies didn't have great emotional regulation and while he always felt a little anxious about you crying he could recognize that you weren't actually hurt or upset. You were just a little baby with a sugar crash.

He turns on the tv and lowers the volume quiet enough to keep things soft before even looking for a show. He flicks through a few channels deciding cartoons would be better mindless content for the both of you to half watch than something like the news. No one liked Gotham news anyway. Not even the anchors. 

You peek at it but keep your face mostly smushed against him, the lazy tears that dripped out ran down his uniform if he didn't wipe them off first. You mumble out a tearful nonsense word while pointing to the screen with the toy still clasped tightly in your hand as Bluey briefly pops up. 

Jason makes an uncertain noise and flips it to a different cartoon, “Ehh… maybe not tonight, kiddo. Last time Bluey made me cry. And I dont… think we both need to have tears tonight.”

He flicks through a couple more, ultimately stopping on Transformers. You look at the screen curiously for a moment then back at him, finally noting how tired he looked right now. His face was about as dirty and bruised as his hands were. Brows slightly pinching together you reach up to brush your fingers over a cut on his cheekbone as lightly as a baby could.

His eyes flick over to you, curious about what you were doing. He gives a slightly confused smile at you, “What?” you make a soft noise and keep touching the mark until he wraps his fingers around yours, tugging them away. “Yeah? That so? Well how about this? We watch the rest of this episode… then you can help bandage me up and drink a warm bottle?” 

He didn't think either of you would be awake enough by then to actually bandage him up but he could manage a bottle. As… long as there was a clean one left in the kitchen and they weren't all on the floor right now. 

You make a soft squeal and squeeze his hand, repeating the last word with a smile that begins to dry the last of your tears. “Bababa…”

“Mmhm… bottle. Looks like you didn't finish a full one at all today… also looks like you were drinking soda from them instead of something good for babies.” Something he would also probably do if you gave him sweet enough puppy eyes.

“Bahbaba..”

“Bottle. Buh… aw… tuh… ul..” he repeats again, sounding out the word with you that you mouth along with.

Only to continue with the same babbled version. 

“Buh..ababab..”

“You know what? That's perfect.” he nods and releases your hand to pat your butt instead, “I’ll get you a proper baba in a bit.”

You giggle softly and bring your freed hand up to his mouth, lightly poking at the split part there while he talks. “Bababa–”

Jason moves his head away each time you poke at the split then would turn back to pretend bite at your fingers. He pauses when you babble the same word again. It should be annoying. But it had teetered over to ridiculous for him, making him snort out a laugh. He drops his forehead against yours at first as his shoulders shake with quiet laughter then quickly drops it down to your shoulder as he keeps laughing.

“It's– this is so stupid– it's not even a.. Its not even a funny word–”

You smile a little as you watch him, pawing at his shoulders and chest to try getting him to look back up at you while he laughs as you cut him off to once again repeat your apparent new favorite word. “Babababa–!”

He chokes out a louder snort then lets you pull his head back to look up at you, knowing you had no idea how ridiculous you were as a baby. “It's so stupid, little bird. It's– ohh.. This is so dumb… I.. I know for sure I'm tired..for… laughing at… whatever this is. I think…” he shakes his head as he forces his laughing fit to calm down. He lets out a little breath then stands up, hoisting you with him, doing exactly what he said he wouldn’t do earlier. Carrying you when it wasn't necessary. “We need to just go to bed now. Before we get anymore… sleep drunk.”

He carries you to the kitchen, sitting you on the counter so his hands were free to look for any clean bottles… however he was instantly reminded how little you were when you nearly topple right off the moment he moved away.

“Shit–” he moves quickly, catching and gently sliding you back into a safer spot, “alright. Yeah. Okay. That was… my fault for.. Not keeping a hold of you.”

“Sha.. eet..!”

“What? No– you–” he presses his lips together to keep from cracking up again. “I guess.. That's also my fault. But at least… you've moved onto a different word?”

He slides you over on the counter, towards a different cupboard. Putting it within arms reach while he could still keep a hand on you to keep you in place. He fumbles around to look for a bottle making a slightly relieved sigh as he sees one last one bottle left hidden behind his many chipped coffee mugs. He frees it from behind its cheap ceramic soldiers and hoists you back onto his hip to turn around in the small kitchen, opening up the fridge. 

He holds it open with his foot then looks between the gallon of milk he needed to grab and the bottle in his only free hand. He ends up offering it to you to hold, which you happily do, bringing it to your mouth to try drinking from the empty bottle as he grabs the milk. 

He sets you back down on the counter and looks at you as you make little confused frustrated noises as you can't get anything out of it. “You struggling, kid? I wonder if it's because there’s nothing in there to drink..”

He gently pries it from your mouth where you were biting at the rubber then unscrews the cap, shaking the milk container, watching the way your mouth drops open in surprise to hear the drink you wanted was in a whole different place. He gives a small chuckle and pours the slightly frothed milk into the bottle, not bothering to clean up the counter or the side of the bottle when it spills over. 

He goes to put the bottle in the microwave right behind you but you whine and clumsily grab at the bottle to bring it back towards yourself. More spills over but he keeps it from completely toppling, “you want it now? It's cold. You feel it? Cold.”

You keep trying to wrestle the bottle towards yourself, not caring that it was cold. “Baby bird– cold. Do you want it cold or warm? Warm milk?” he points to the microwave but it causes you to nearly spill the bottle again so he just gives up on trying to get you to understand.

“Okay. You don't want it warm? I.. sure whatever you want.” he pries your now milk covered fingers off the bottle so he can twist the lid back on. 

He hands it back to you which you eagerly bring right back up to your mouth, trying twice as hard to drink from it since the first time all you got was air. But now that there's actual milk in it you get a little too much in your mouth, nearly inhaling it and causing you to cough it right back out, getting your shirt a mess. 

He looks at you with a bewildered and slight disgusted expression, thinking, ‘why would you do that?’

He slowly pushes the base of the bottle down so you can't do it again right away, still looking at you with such a tired emotion as he tried to figure out if he even wanted to deal with this the responsible way or not.

When you cough again, milk spittle getting on his uniform the decision is made for him. He was too tired for full dad mode. You're getting the big brother fix.

He peels your wet shirt off, using the dry parts to wipe more of you off then just… drops the shirt on the floor to be with the rest of the mess he would have to clean up tomorrow then repeats the came actions with his uniform.

He preferred to not sleep in his uniform anyway. At least not when you were regressed. He didnt… need to always feel wound up and ready to fight at any moment if he was taking care of you. Because with you his role was to be your caregiver. Not a vigilante.

You don't seem to mind the difference in clothing just reaching back out for the bottle again. He holds it away, picking you up instead and heading to the bedroom. 

“Everybody pisses and shits and— everyone takes bathroom breaks, Carmen! It’s a legal obligation!”

“I just— I can’t— every second—“

“Don’t you use that bullshit sign as an excuse. That’s not what it's meant for and you know it.”

“Fine! I.. I can’t.. can’t—“ He throws his hands up in frustration and they ultimately find their way into his hair to tug on in frustration. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I get so focused on work that I can’t take a break until it’s perfect! Or I feel like I’m…” a failure. A bad chef. A horrible person. A disappointment. “Like the whole restaurant will close down if any of the dishes that go out end up anything less than… than the perfection I know I’m capable of.”

“That’s fucking OCD, Carmen! Get a therapist!“

“I don’t want a fucking therapist!”

“No you’d rather just piss your pants at work, huh?”

“It’s better than the acci—!” He started to yell back but instantly knew he fucked up with the look Richie shot him, his hands fall to his sides and his volume falls with it. “A..cc..idents…”

“The what?”

“I..I-I told you I.. focus so hard on my work that I don’t.. I don’t notice anything else. It’s like… tunnel vision and.. I wasn’t.. really.. taking care of myself.”

“You— how do you— how does a grown man not visit the bathroom once at work and not realize his bladder is trying to fucking explode?” He shakes his head, scoffing sourly. “What am I saying? You’re the same man that didn’t eat a meal for like three days because you were too busy cooking for others to cook for yourself. Of course you’ve had ‘accidents’. You’re a mess.”

Carmen’s face was red with anger and shame, looking down at his hands as he picked at his nails. He hated doing that. He hated that stupid habit. He liked his nails neat. But Richie had him so worked up he was making them a terrible mess and he couldn’t stop to look up at him. Or maybe that was just the shame keeping him from meeting his cousin’s gaze after he’d just learned the two probably most embarrassing things about him. 

Richie takes a few minutes, leaning on the counter with his face in his hands as he tries to get a grasp on the situation without trying to beat some sense into Carmen. That wouldn’t solve anything. The kid’s OCD wouldn’t leave him after a punch square to his stupid little jaw… but it would feel really satisfying for Richie. 

“So… okay. You’re wearing diapers. Because you refuse to take breaks—“

“Not on purpose–“

“Shut up, Carm. I’m talking.” He shuts him down instantly, not wanting to hear the explanations or excuses anymore right now. “You’re wearing them. You’re not taking breaks..” 

Richie runs his hands down his face, turning his head to look at Carmy with an exasperated… absolutely exhausted dad look. “I mean… you’re telling me you managed to unpotty-train yourself?”

“No– no! I… sometimes it– I read online that– it happens when… someone–”

“Has a load of trauma so heavy it cripples their body–”

“To regressors! I was going to say it happens to fucking…” he takes a deep breath and sighs out his next words, leaning over the counter opposite of Richie as he starts to give out. Not just on the argument and defending himself but also keeping all these secrets only to himself. “..age regressors…”

“Wh.. what the hell is that shit? Age regressors?” Richie was only feeling more and more stressed as this went on because no matter how he came off sometimes he wasn't stupid. He could break down the two words and fit em back together but he didnt… even so it didnt click to him. “You talkin magic now? OCD? Or just… talking about your skills dipping? Cause you know we can’t survive if you have moments you can't cook– and we certainly don't do that magic haunted ghosty shit–”

“What? The fuck are you talking about? How did you get magic from age–” Carmen waves his hand as he shakes his head and drops the question. They would just go in circles forever if he didn't just move on. “No. It's like… mental state. Adult to… something younger. It's not… always voluntary–the stress triggers it but I can usually like…cook on autopilot so it doesn't affect my work that much but… my body doesnt… seem to… i cant get it to–”

Richie squinted at him as he takes a moment to think it over then interrupts him, “To stay on adult autopilot too.”

“Exactly…!”

“Heard. So… you didn't unpotty-train yourself on purpose.”

“I keep telling you no!”

“No I mean– you didn't do it. This mental age thing did.” Carmy wanted to correct him but he just gives up on it and shrugs with a half committed nod, it was about as close to being right as Richie would probably be able to understand without experiencing it. “You get too stressed at work. Age regress. Keep working. Piss your pants.”

Carm buried his face in his hands, leaning further on the counter until he let go of his head to press his forehead against the counter top. The constant reminder of wetting himself felt so exhausting and humiliating. “...rinse and repeat.”

“Actual rinse?”

He barely peeked up at Richie to silently ask, ‘what the fuck does that mean?’

“Changes, Carm. Cleaning off. Putting a new one on.”

“What are you asking me?”

As a dad that had changed countless diapers when his daughter was young, his warning lights were going off in his mind over his little cousin’s responses the more he soaked in the idea of him having been using protection like that. If Carm hadn't been leaving the kitchen all day… was he just working in soaked padding for hours? That… would be horrible for his skin. “How often are you changing them?”

“Wha.. I– you can't ask that!” Carm threw his hands out at Richie's audacity, fumbling over his words as he struggled to even form an answer to that in his mind.

“The hell I can't. Did you even change once today?”

As the chef continues to stumble over an answer, Richie loses his patience and starts to round the counter, intent on just looking for himself. But Carm catches on quickly and backs away from the counter, watching him with unease.

“Okay– wait– hold on a moment, cousin–” Richie stops for only  a second to give Carm once last chance to convince him he was taking care of himself but when the chef only stumbles over his words again, shuffling one foot back like he was thinking of booking it– Richie surged forward. 

Sprinting after him, Carmen does the only thing a kid would do and tucks tail, running to escape the kitchen before he would be wrestled to the floor in the same manner his brother and Richie used to do to him as kids. “Dontchu run from me, mister! Get your rashy ass back here!”

“Jesus christ– you fuckin jagoff– leave it alone!” They weave through the empty dining hall, knocking over a few chairs and vases on the tables like a bunch of rowdy unsupervised kids.

“I will not! You know how hard it was to heal diaper rashes with Evie?! I am not letting our top chef continue to have meltdowns because he wont change his wet– ass!” Carm manages to get a table between the two of them, Richie unable to reach across and grab him or round it without the kid moving to keep the same distance. He grits his teeth as they hold there in a tense standoff, waiting for the other’s move. In a dirty surprise maneuver Richie grabs the table’s vase and splashes Carm in the face with the water and flowers, distracting him long enough for him to round the table and tackle him to the ground. 

Carmen grunts and kicks around under him while Richie practically claws around to get a hold on any part of his clothes, aiming for his pants but it was difficult with Carm flailing around and shoving his hands away. 

“Cut it out–!”

“Stop it–!”

“Ack– not the face, you–”

“Dont you fuckin spit at–”

Richie finally manages to just roll Carm onto his stomach, yanking down the back of his jeans while he tries to crawl away. The diaper had definitely been used but they already knew that and it was no longer his focus. He needed to see the damage to his skin. 

He gets his pants low enough to see some of the rash he had guessed would be there peeking out onto his thighs, angry and bright pink. He swats away Carm’s hand that came back to stop him then moves off his legs to sit on his back, keeping him pinned down better so he could lift the back of the diaper just enough to check.

Carm grumbles out insults to make the devil’s chef blush and whines unhappily through the whole thing but Rich paid him no mind when he was looking at an absolutely heinous diaper rash. 

“Jeeeesus, cousin… you genuinely might need antibiotics.”

“Dont be ridiculous–”

“No im not fuckin with you. It looks awful. Doesn't it hurt?”

Carmen huffed a little and grumpily laid his head on his arms as he waited for this to be over so he could get some dignity back by pulling his jeans up. “.. a little.”

“Have you put anything on it?”

“Like what?”

“Rash cream moron!”

“No! It's not that bad! It'll go away!”

“Course you haven't. It doesn't look like you even have any powder or any barrier cream. Nothin to keep your skin from staying wet." He spoke like this was common knowledge for everyone and Carmen was stupid for not knowing any of this. But truth was Richie hadn't known about any of it either until he had been a dad. 

Richie stops peeking in the back of the diaper and stands off the kid, reaching down to help him stand up which he begrudgingly accepts but when he goes to pull his pants up, the man stops him. “No. Leave em. You're gettin a change now.”

“B– hu– wha– by you?!” Richie nods while giving him one of those stupid faces with a mocking ‘uh huh’ noises, “no! No way! I-I don’t even– I don't have those things you were talking about anyway!”

“Well I'm not leaving you to wet rot until you get home! And just being dry even without rash cream is better than doing nothing." He grabs his arm and begins to drag him back to the office space, having seen earlier today that Carm had left his backpack in there. He stumbles a bit with his pants still partially down his legs, annoyed that his pseudo family member hadn't let him pull them up and he was tugging him along too fast for him to get them up now.

He shoves Carm into the office and locks the door just in case the other decided to brave a run for it, risking another wrestling match that both of them were probably too old to still be doing. He looks around until he finds the bag and all but rips it open to find any supplies but there's just one diaper sadly crumpled down at the bottom like he had been trying to hide it. 

Richie pulls it out, dropping the bag to the floor as he looks at Carm with worse disbelief. “Seriously? That's all?” With a bit of shame and a whole lot of embarrassment, Carm shrugs and looks away, fidgeting with his nails again to keep him from looking at the other. Richie rolls his eyes and scoffs, having to leave the office just to go get paper towels to clean him with, griping at him when he passes by to “stay put.”

He thought about making a run for it, just going straight home to pretend like none of this ever happened, then come in tomorrow and never speak to Richie ever again. He reeeeeally thought about it. But… some part of him must be craving for another person to help him. Take a little off his plate and… just… care for him in the ways he didn't.

So when Richie came back he just quietly laid down on the floor like Richie ordered him too and stayed mostly still while he got to work methodically changing him like it was some everyday occurrence for him. He undid the tapes and opened it up taking a few moments to simply take in the rashed skin with a disapproving head shake that was fully derived from love and concern. 

He uncrumples the fresh diaper and helps Carm hold his butt up long enough to switch the two out so he was laying over the clean one for when Richie gets to work using damp paper towels to clean him off… which was the worst part for Carm. He squirmed a lot more and complained under his breath as he kept his gaze fixated on the ceiling tiles, not realizing until he wasn't the one in control of cleaning the sore areas just how much some of the spots hurt.

Surprisingly Richie didn't chastise him for it or even make fun of him. He was too focused on his work of making sure every part of his skin that had been touching the wet fabric was clean. Once he’s finally done… he then dries him off very carefully by dabbing at the skin with some try towels and taping the new diaper on. It seemed odd to Carmen how easy it was for him to do all of that. Sure he had the experience but that was with a much much smaller kid and… Carmen always found it really difficult to get it tapped closed in a comfortable way, usually giving up and just accepting it in any way as long as it kept him protected. Richie also… did it quickly. Very quickly. Even the cleaning was done in a shocking amount of time…

Richie wiped off his hands with one of the last clean damp paper towels then put all the trash inside the dirty diaper before rolling it closed to throw away. He gives the diaper a gentle dad’s ‘that's not going anywhere’ pat before helping Carm tug his jeans up. 

“You know you're not doing this alone anymore right?” Richie asks him after a beat of silence when he sits up, neither one of them fully meeting each other's eyes for the heartfelt moment. There was just something about it that their families couldn't seem to handle.

She’d been pulled out of the tub, wrapped in a big towel, and sat on Negan’s lap while he dried her. She’d fallen asleep a while ago but this time he didn't bother waking her since it had been getting progressively more difficult each time now that her eyes could hardly even crack open, her mind not processing most things. The only thing her unconscious mind did recognize was how she wasn't as warm outside of the water but his body was. Leading to her curling into him, head resting on his shoulder with pruned fingers lightly buried in his shirt, seeking to keep some of that warmth that had become so rare in the winter. 

He felt smug at first seeing her so cuddled into him. To him it was a major sign of submission to his power– like when his men kneeled in front of him and didn't stop until he allowed them to. She was so easily being buttered up to be morphed into what he want wanted that he could already see her as his giggling, crumb-faced little toddler that he would sneak extra cookie rations too or let have a small sip of his spiked eggnog just to crack up at the face she’d make when the taste hit. 

The more he daydreamed while simply gazing at her sweet sleeping face the less smug he felt. Instead he felt… he… well he wasn't sure exactly. It wasn't guilt. He didn't regret anything– no if anything he was pleased. Pleased he was doing this for himself. Maybe… even appreciative that he… had the opportunity to gift himself with an adult sized bundle of christmas joy?

Perhaps it was just vindication that he was right about her. 

Yeah. He could settle on that. 

Vindication. 

He didn't want to think about all that mushy psychoanalytic bullshit anyway. 

He shakes his head clear and half-asses rubbing a towel over her hair so he can begin the arduous process of redressing her. Something he considered just… not doing since she was basically a rag-doll right now and it would make the whole process much more convenient. 

Although then she might freeze… so… clothes it is.

Oh the woes of being a new father. 

The way she woke up the next day certainly ruined the perfectly curated picture of a “content little kid sleeping in her parent’s bedroom” Negan had created by dressing her in a full body onesie and tucking a stuffed animal under her arms.

She had shot up from a nightmare and instantly tried to fling herself off the bed in an attempt to run from whatever had haunted her sleeping mind; the scream that accompanied the action made the carpenter in the room flinch. Leading him to hammer his thumb by accident. 

Cussing up a storm, the man made his way to the door to have someone let Negan know Y/N was awake again. Meanwhile she had fled to the corner of the room hiding behind the playpen right beside the rocking chair to curl up into herself and tug at her hair in some unconscious attempt to soothe her lingering fear that had no doubt made itself known in her nightmares from all the stress that had built up during her days here. 

It could’ve been hours or minutes before Negan, just as ironically bright and eager as always, made his way into the bedroom to come say good morning to his sleepy eyed kid. His entrance was dramatic with the way he practically threw open the door and held his hands out as if expecting applause for simply bringing his big grin around. 

“Goooood morning, sunshine!”

He looked around then dropped his hands to his sides when he didn't initially see her, briefly disappointed his grand entrance went to waste. He walks further into the room, giving everything a brief sweep with his peepers for her like some fun surprise game of hide and seek.

“Ohhh sunshiiiine… are you playing a game? Hm? Hiding from daddy this early in the morning?” he bends over slightly to peek under the bed then moves on to throw open the closet with growing exaggeration. He seems genuinely surprised to not find her there but is otherwise undeterred from the fun of searching. He hums and saunters around with languished ease, seemingly not a care in the world even if he thought his ‘child’ was potentially attempting an escape.. 

“Where oh where has my little sunshine gone?” he sings as he continues to look, his smile growing with his excitement as he narrows down the hiding spots. Now he was checking areas he knew she couldn't fit in simply because he thought it would be amusing if she was watching him get closer to her with growing panic. 

When he finally nears the playpen he grabs the edge and quickly looks around it, shouting out a playful, “Gotcha!”

Although his excitement was dulled slightly seeing her shaking in the corner of the room, spacey and frightened but otherwise unreactive to him finding her. It wasn't a fun game if she didn't also play along. 

He pushes that aside and puts back on that confident teasing voice of his. 

“Is my little bug checkin out her play area already? All on her own?” He rounds the playpen fully, noting how the more he talked the more she started to give small indications that she was hearing his voice instead of just staring off with a hollow gaze, “Were you so excited you couldn't even wait for your daddy to show it off to you officially?”

He waited a moment to see if she would respond with anything cheeky or fearful, though when all he got was her moving her hands from her hair to chew on her nails–her eyes never once lifting from some spot on the ground–he lost a bit more of that cocky attitude and sighs. Kneeling down to her level he makes that dramatic old man grunt as if the very action was aging his joints by a few decades. 

“Hey now… I'm not tryin to make y’nervous…” not a total lie. Negan wouldn't outright lie to someone like that…. However… he also wasn't about to visit a confessional any time soon over it either. “I know we said we’d run over rules after you slept but they aint that bad. No need to be shakin over it." 

His voice is slightly softer now– or as soft as his can get anyway– and hearing someone continuously talk in a comforting tone seemed to set her nerves at ease enough to slowly coax her out of her head. 

Even so he was getting more concerned the longer she went without acknowledging him or anything he said. His brows furrow slightly as he tilts his head to look at her better, starting to consider that perhaps she hadn't been trying to escape but instead was hiding because something had happened while he was out.

He scratches his cheek briefly before shooting a suspicious glare over his shoulder at the carpenter that had gone back to work on the nearly completed crib. The only man that had been left alone with her for hours. Tanner didn't seem like the type to hurt some innocent girl while she was asleep but… most of the men around here didn't exactly get a lot of opportunities to be around pretty girls. 

The thought made him much more serious. His mind already thinking about calling a meeting for the iron. The only question was whether he would wait until the guy was done building the crib or if Negan could simply find someone else to finish where he left off…

“Little bug… one of the rules I got for you is somethin everyone round here has to listen to or face the consequences, alright?” He hushed his voice slightly so only she would likely hear him. Not that he cared if Tanner could hear him vaguely threatening him but maybe it would give him less of a chance to run if he dared to try it. “This rule is very important. The Sanctuary is… safe…! We are the Saviors. We provide security to keep civilization going in this world. But that security doesn't stop at our doors… afterall how could we protect others if we can't protect our own first?”

He shifts a little closer to her on the floor, leaning into her personal space to really hit home that he meant it–or maybe he was simply in the habit of intimidating people by letting them know he could get this close without them doing anything because they would always be under his thumb. “Youre under the Saviors care now, honey. You're safe. Protected. By all of us. But most importantly… by me.”

Safe…

Protected…

Cared for… 

Security… 

Safe… 

Safe… safesafesafesafe…

The words hung in her mind like a dense repetitive mantra that instead of making the fog in her head worse it soaked it all up like a rag, clearing things for her to listen better. But also taking away some of the bad that should've reminded her that he was just a pretty liar. She hadn't felt safe since she’d been here but the ribbon wrapped words were enough to help pry her eyes away from the floor, briefly glancing at him a few times as he spoke. Looking to him for more reassurances and promises of safety. 

“No one here is allowed to hurt you. If they do… you tell me right away and I'll personally take care of it. I’ll make sure they're never able to do it again.”

It was terrifying the way he promised something like that so casually and with such sincerity. She knew from the look in his eyes, the way he never wavered over his words or looked away from her that whatever that all meant… it would no doubt be more horrible than anything her nightmares could come up with. And if it was something he was willing to do to one of his own men she couldn't imagine what he might do to her if she upset him.

“Anyone bother you this morning before daddy came in?” he asks and she shakes her head a small bit, her gaze flicking between him and the floor again. “You sure? Don't lie to me.”

She nods her head and returns to biting her nails until he nods, relaxing a little bit as he lets it go. Choosing not to dwell on things if there wasn't a reason to. And since she seemed fine–or… better– compared to earlier, he reaches out and pulls her hand away from her mouth, tugging it to get her to stand with him. 

“Let’s get you some breakfast and go over those rules then.” he keeps a hold of her hand as he leads her around the play pen and across the room to the door. The walk bringing her attention to the outfit she was in for the first time.

The first thing she took in was her feet. It seemed the pants went past her ankles far enough to completely fold over her feet in a sort of thin shoe so she didn't have to walk bare foot on the cold floors. However, following it up.. there was no… end. It went past her waist into the top in one whole piece like a–

…like a onesie.

A footie. Pajama. Onesie.

She pauses walking to look down over herself, trying to pull her hand from his to examine the outfit however he keeps it firmly in his, even going as far as to interlock their fingers so she would be forced to stay attached to his side.

“Wh… wait…” she starts to stumble out, her brain still lagging over her rough morning wake up and the bewilderment of what she was wearing. Worse so was the embarrassment that was creeping up at the idea of having to go out in front of a bunch of other people wearing it… she uses her free hand to lightly tug on the onesie, unsure what to do about it.

“What? We’re just going for some grub, no one'll care if you wear your pjs to breakfast.” he tugs on her hand, making her shuffle after him so he could parade her around because yeah she could've changed. But he liked the outfit. “And if they do…”

She stumbles over the floor slightly when the built in booties make her nearly slip as they transition to the more slick hallway floors. She grabs onto him for stability then hides behind him like a shy child as she spots another Savior walking by.

He shoots her an almost sly look over his shoulder, seeing if she would remember the rule he had just taught her. “What will daddy do?”

She briefly meets his gaze, getting further embarrassed by how much she was clinging to him in her attempt to keep from slipping or being seen. “Um.. you…’ll take care of it…”

When he opened the door she was slumped against the corner wall on the mattress, having learned that while it was disgusting and smelled like… a dog’s outhouse in nice terms… it was much warmer than the concrete floor that threatened to take a frosty bite out of her tush. She didn't look very lively, deep circles from the exhaustion and all the sobbing she did decorated her eyes that stared off at nothing until the light hit them like a bullet to the brain. She covered her face at first, whimpering in pain from the strain the light caused but then came the hope at the realization that an open door meant an opportunity to leave. 

“Don’t you look so pitiful after your timeout. How was it? Did you like the music daddy chose for you? I figured it would be fittin for someone that’s going to be real little real soon.”

She crawled over to the door half blind, hearing Negan's voice while she felt around for a boot to grab onto. She didn't have any shame right now– she was too tired to be as affected by the humiliation begging would bring. She just wanted out. Wanted to sleep somewhere quiet. With a soft light. She couldn't handle any more of the dark that promised nothing but imaginary and real monsters lying in wait. 

“Oh hoh ho.. What're you doin? Happy to see daddy? Or you crawlin over cause you wanna know what happened to your friends after you left? Well just cause you, little darlin, put me in a good mood, I kept my word. They're alive. For now. But whether it stays like that all depends on you.”

All the last remaining hydration in her body made its way to her burning eyes just to waste themselves by running down her cheeks as she made confusing apologies between pleas and promises that all boiled down to her just wanting out of that room without getting innocent people killed.

And ooooooh was that music to his ears. 

He kneels down, prying her hands from his boots and ankle to hold in his own, helping prop her up to sit in front of him. “I like hearin when someone’s learned their lesson but you aint gettin out of here until we've made a little agreement alright?”

She nods without hesitation, that stupid song still endlessly looping in her head as if it hadn't been paused when the door opened. In the back of her mind she couldnt help but be scared she'd never get it out of her head again. 

He tilts her head up a little and tries to get her to look at him better but her eyes are still squinted as they try to adjust to the light along with struggling to see through the tears that burned so bad.

“Now it's christmas time.. Yeah?” he asks just to make sure she was listening better than last night. she nods along even though she had no idea what month it was, keeping track of time like that hadn't been a top priority of hers in a long while, “And we ain't got any youngins around here to decorate trees with or make cookies with… lie to about santa. All that nostalgic sappy shit. That's where you come in, little miss.”

She freezes up, getting a bad feeling about what that means. While she really did want out of this room she really didn't want to have some insane scary stranger’s baby.

He taps her nose with a gloved finger in an almost playful way, “You’re going to become my little christmas baby.” 

What.

Oh. 

That's… different than what she thought… he was going to say..

She…uh… didnt… expect that. 

Even her limited amount of tears had trickled off in her confusion and he wiped the wet tracks off her cheeks with his thumb. She stumbles over her words, unsure what to even say to that, although acting like a baby did sound… better than having to give birth to a baby.

“I uh.. i.. d– Wh.. o– uh… kay..”

She finally bumbles out her tentative agreement which he grins to and pats her cheek, “Now that's what a good girl sounds like. We’ll go over rules after you have a nap. You look like you wouldn't remember a thing with how dead tired you are. How bout we take you out of timeout for a little nap? Would you like that, kid?”

She gives a confused little nod as he helps her to stand. However getting up causes her to get dizzy and he grumbles a little about having to carry her again when his back was still protesting about the first time but he packs her up anyway. 

He was going to have to get a stroller or a little wagon to cart her around in if needing to be carried became a habit. His gray hairs were a testament that he wasn't at the age anymore where he could've carried a grown adult like her around whenever.

He whistles when he gets a strong whiff of her from picking her up. He tries not to laugh, knowing it was partially his fault for sticking her in the worst smelling room–somebody had been slaaacking on cleaning them..! “Woooh-wee! You smell rotten! I think I've actually killed walkers that smelled better than you. Maybe we’ll give you a bath first! Scrub that shit smell off you before you get my sheets nasty.”

She shrinks in his arms, the words just furthering her humiliation. She thinks he was purposely yelling it down the halls as they went just so as many other people would hear about how disgusting she apparently was. Seeing her get more embarrassed by his teasing seemed to only amuse him further, snickering and murmuring something about how he was joking. Yeah right.

Taking her back to his bedroom, she could see it was in the middle of redecoration. Half of it looked remotely the same as it had before (she thinks. She wasn't actually all that with how her memory was.) The bed was in the same spot along with most of the decorations and the couch. The rest had been changed into a mock-nursery, taking the spots where most of the tables had been taking up space before. Now there was a rocking chair with a box sitting on it in the corner over one of those children’s foam puzzle mats where a…a play pen… had been partially set up?

She spotted another savior in the room–a carpenter it looks like. One not very excited to be here either. He was currently finishing putting together what looks like a big wooden… cage? Is he building a cage? For her? What does a cage have to do with acting like a kid???

She looks between Negan and the project uncomfortably, her fingers curling into his jacket unconsciously, “You like whatcha see? I bet you do. You're all kind of excited! I can tell by those big wide eyes.” He jostles her in his arms for fun and raises a playful brow at her, “It ain’t done yet. But Tanner’s a fast worker so you’ll get to nap in there soon. Until then you’ll just have to settle for papa’s bed or the play pen.” 

He carries her over to the ensuite bathroom and sets her on top of the counter while her sluggish mind tries to wrap around the idea of having a crib being actively made for her… that she’ll have to sleep in… he genuinely meant it when he said he wanted her to be a kid. There was no getting around this..was there?

He pulls her shoes off, actually tossing them and her dirty socks in a trashcan nearby before reaching for her shirt, “Arms up, stinker.”

She makes a small noise and presses her arms further into her sides to make it more difficult for him to even attempt wrestling her shirt off. “What? No! I.. I can bathe myself..!”

“Oh I'm suuuure you could… on any other day, kid. But I got a hunch you’ll be countin sheep with your head under the water before you so much as get those pretty little locks wet.”

She was starting to think she hated this guy simply because he wasn't exactly… wrong. Deluded, insane, mean, violent, narcissistic? Yes. Wrong about how tired she was? …no.

“...can’t… someone else help?”

“What…? You don't want daddy to help with your first bath? Who wouldja suppose I get instead? Tanner? You want Tanner with all his rough callouses and splinters to scrub you off?” Everything he said was specifically worded to be as manipulative and sarcastic sounding as possible. To make it sound like either he or whatever he suggested was somehow the best option. This time he was purposely making it sound as if he didn't have any women around the Sanctuary that could help… without outright lying. That way when she found out the truth later he could tease her a little more by making her feel like it was her own fault for not asking the right questions.

In her mind if the option really was him or some stranger…  then maybe she would prefer Negan. The guy that had… in some ways been sort of nice to her. Like… Um… he… did that... One nice thing. Like… letting her out of the timeout room. Or…uh… offering her a bath! He wouldn't do that if he wasn't a little nice… right? 

Ugh… at least he was someone she knew. She just had to keep reminding herself that the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t…

Is that basically the opposite of the saying ‘the grass is always greener?’

“But…” she starts out, her arms relaxing a little bit against her sides. 

“But what? You really gonna choose one of my men instead of me? Kid… that hurts my feelings.” if she wasn't so pale from being borderline sick with exhaustion she might’ve flushed pink from how oddly guilty that made her feel. She didn't understand why when he clearly didn't mean it but maybe with how much he was constantly hammering into her head that he was now daddy and she was just a little kid that she was starting to feel some sort of… obligation–emotional obligation beyond just the necessary one that would keep her friends alive. 

He holds his hands up in mock surrender and backs away from her with a sigh, that amused smile never leaving his lips as he turns, pretending like he was leaving to go get someone else. “We're gonna be spending a lot of time together, sweetie. It's better if you get used to it sooner rather than later. But I’m all about following the rules. And the best rule is consent. So if you dont want daddy to bathe you… well lets just say I can take a hint.”

Her dry, dehydrated lips part as she tries to catch up with what was happening, a turmoil of anxiety blooming in her belly the further he walks away. The turning point was when he glanced back at her with a look like he was expecting her to understand some inside joke he never explained while he cupped a hand to his mouth to start calling out, “Oh Taaaannnner–!”

Her voice cracked with a quiet noise as she breathed out sharply, heartbeat racing as she reached a hand out in his vague direction. “N.. No– no. i-its okay– its– um–”

He stops his hollering but so does the hammering noises that came with the crib being put together, his grin widening as he waits for her to say the next fun words. “Yeah– did you– what is it? Did you need something cause i was just… calling for–”

She shakes her head a little, nervous eyes glancing at the room she could see past the door frame he was in, afraid to see someone else coming before she could make up her mind. “I dont– dont want…”

“Go on. Don't let your tongue get all twisted. I’ve heard you say big girl words–granted not many–but enough to turn me down.”

“I don't want Tanner…” she forces the words out in a mumble, turning her face down slightly so she wouldn't have to look at the glee on his face when he continues to torment her. 

“What was that? Sorry. I think you need to say that again for me darlin.”

“I… ugh.. I don't. Want. Tanner.”

“Ohhh! I see. You want Dwight instead? you two met back at your old camp. His ugly mug must've made quite the impression if you're asking for him but.. Who am I to judge?” He was just baiting her. But this is what he missed. It's what he wanted. Someone to tease all the time, baby and spoil, to get a good laugh out of when they fell for the bait and pouted over it.

“No..!” she practically whines, too sleepy to be dealing with all this, “I don't want him either…”

“Oh well forgive me!” he puts a hand to his chest, acting like he felt bad for offending someone, only to use it to wave off the man he called out for earlier, “Nevermind, Tanner. She says she doesn't want you anymore. But who does she want? I can't imagine you know too many others around here…”

Laying it on a bit thick wasn't he? All to get her to say it. 

“...you…can…do…it…” she finally gets out and he saunters right back into the bathroom, being oh so considerate to make sure he shuts the door this time behind him to give her some semblance of faux privacy. 

“Who?”

“You.”

“I do like the sound of that but I think… there's… a better name you could use.” he draws out his words with the slow steps he takes to get back over to her. Each footfall of his boot making her heartbeat a little faster.

Another name? Does he want her to call him Negan or sir every time she addresses him now? Or did he just want to hear his own name– oh. 

Right. She almost forgot the role she was supposed to be learning to play soon.

Unnngh she didn't want to say it. The way he was looking at her made the word feel… gross.

“Da…” she starts out and he tilts his head to the side, eyes twinkling with twisted delight as he silently sounded it out with her, “..d..dy..”

“Good girl! Didn't even have to teach that one to you did I? You're just that smart.” he reaches out and grabs her shirt, resuming his actions from earlier as if nothing happened. “We’ll work on your confidence later. For now no more of these disgusting rags.”

He peels it off her clothes with very little help from her, throwing each item away like he was stripping her not of her “dirty rags” but of her old person. It was almost sad to see them go. Memories–the good and the bad– were stitched into each and every thread that held them together and while those memories would live on somewhere in her mind without that physical reminder to stir them awake and remind her… she knew she would begin to forget. 

The tub was already filled when he transferred her from the counter to the water, making her wonder if he had already planned for a bath. She just didn't know if it was originally meant for her or him. 

He didn't seem like the bath type to her but he also didn't seem like the kind to play pretend like this either. Maybe in his seemingly infinite comfort and security he had grown bored atop his throne. His usual jesters no longer as amusing to torment so he had to find something new to spark that malicious tickle in his belly.

He had taken his gloves and leather jacket off while she had first soaked in the hot water, dirt rising from her skin and floating at the top in muddy rivulets. He had been right about her potentially falling asleep in the water. Her muscles had found such deep comfort in the hot water warming her body they couldn't help but relax and take out just about any last fight for the night she had in her.

He sat down on a little stool he brought over beside the tub to make it easier on him to wash her and would routinely shake her back awake anytime he thought she had started snoring, seemingly genuinely concerned that she was going to slip under the water. 

The nicest part of the bath–and the only part she remembered–was him washing her hair. He took his time doing that unlike everything else. He shampooed her hair twice, massaging and scratching all the build up off her scalp for long periods of time to make sure it was genuinely clean. He’d even at some point gotten a clean bucket of water beside him just to rinse it all out with instead of using the dirty bath water. He stayed oddly quiet for the majority of the work, only speaking occasional instructions that she hardly heard and telling a soft story she couldn't understand at the time while he combed through her hair and let the conditioner rest. 

Perhaps… instead of boredom… this king had finally learned a throne made of bones was lonely and this was… his own desperate attempt at capturing his own humanity again.

He could go snag an actual child from one of his communities. He'd need one that would be a little more… independent. At least most of the time. Negan was at least aware that a baby or toddler would need constant attention that he… would be less than interested in giving when he was busy. He could simply hand them off to one of his wives when he wasn't interested in playing but… children–and teenagers–had this way of growing resentful of the less present parent. Something he wasn't interested in fighting with in house when he dealt with it enough from his communities and similar behavior back when he was a teacher. 

Actually… the more he thought about it…. The more remembered how kids also did this extra annoying thing where they constantly grow and develop a personality outside of him. They wouldn't stay a kid forever. Meaning eventually he would come right back to the issue at hand. He wouldn't have someone to play with or spend his holidays with. 

That meant taking someone’s kid wouldn't be his first option… but what were his other options then? What didn't grow out of being a kid that he could keep around for his amusement and holiday spirits?

He kept thinking it over as a small group of his men and him were driving towards a new survivor group they'd been tipped off about. 

His mind kept coming back to a doll but..

He didnt want a fucking doll.

Even though the way things were going it seemed like that was the only choice that fit the most of his criteria.

His mind ran it over and over, ideas tumbling around in his head like a washing machine trying its hardest to get a shit stain out. The stain being a doll as the solution. That wasn't the answer and he knew it but the real answer was a puzzle that held his happiness prisoner, waiting for him to figure it out.

…unless.

He didn't need a real child. Maybe just… a person.

He’d have to concoct a new method to break someone, make them willing to act entirely different–younger instead of just vowing unwavering loyalty. He didn't want them to be another soldier willing to kill for him. He’d make them become reliant on him, sweet…, childish at the snap of his fingers. Then he could have his fun spoiling and babying them through the holidays like a real kid when he wanted but without having to worry about the whole… growing up thing or fulltime parenting. 

They'd be a little kid when he wanted to play and an adult when he wanted to put em back on the shelf.

It could work.

Maybe. 

He wasn't fully convinced about the idea of pretending a grown adult was a child until after they’d rounded up every person in the community. This one wasn't as difficult as some communities were. It was out numbered by his men two to one and he’d only brought along a skeleton crew for this run. It was hardly even a community being only a handful of people hardly surviving that had no way of fighting back. 

It was so pitiful that in his bad mood he didn't see the point of keeping them alive. The whole thing felt like a complete waste of his time. There wasn't a reason for him to come out here personally other than he had hoped it would maybe give him something to do and focus on other than his poor ideas. 

Lucky for their group–luckier for him–he saw the one person amongst the group who didn't look rightly scared out of her wits. She had when he first showed up. He’d seen it in all of them when he had checked for any signs of revolting but at a certain point her expression seemed to… lose its fear, dropping to this foggy…far off look. Like she’d buried herself deep in her head for a bit. It wasn't uncommon for some survivors to fall into this dissociative state when Negan was around, he had that traumatic effect on people, but… something about this person in particular intrigued him.

Perhaps it was because his mind had already been spinning for the past few days about his holiday cheer dilemma that drew him in… or maybe there actually was something special about her. Negan didn't care about the reason. She'd solidified his idea in his mind and he didn't need to psychoanalyze it to know he wanted that one to be his early christmas present to himself. 

Sometimes he had a great hunch that certain people would simply respond well to torture. Certain men would break in just a few short days in the hole or with one perfectly curated threat.

That one. His Christmas gift. He knew she would respond well to this idea he was concocting. 

He approaches her, kneeling down then using the handle of his bat to gently tap her chin up to face him even though her gaze wasn't fully present yet and he asks her name in a deceptively comforting purr, “And what’s your name then, pet?”

She blinks a bit as she tries to process the situation, her mind struggling to come up with the correct answer at first but eventually she manages to mumble it out which he grins at and responds, “Is that so? Well…” he drawls out her name, watching as she feels every syllable roll off his tongue, “how would you like to go somewhere you can make a loooota people smile?”

If her blood hadn't already run cold hearing that would've tuned it to ice as her mind automatically assumed the worst from that statement.  After all it came from a man that just threatened her group and is currently holding a bloody barbed wire bat. She starts to shake her head, hands trembling even worse from the fear despite being held tightly in her lap.

“Oh.. now, kitten, don't say no quite yet. You ain’t even heard the offer.” He gives a little chuckle, amused by what he viewed as audacity to turn him down when he knew she so petrified her eyes couldn't even seem to focus on him without spacing out between words. “You and your pretty little face’ll come with me and my saviors back to the Sanctuary to…” he hums and taps her chin again to keep her attention on him, “To help spread a little holiday cheer. And I’ll let your friends get away with keeping…hmm.. 50% of their stuff for this first collection instead of zero. How's that sound? Hm? Don't you want to help your friends and get the Big Daddy Savior in the Christmas mood?”

There were tears in her eyes now, not falling but just wetting her eyes as she continued to make the worst assumptions about what this “job” could possibly entail. What could ”entertainment” in this context even mean? Would she be put in a fighting cage dressed as a Ms. Claus to fight against other people or worse… against santa walkers? All for some holiday theme? Or was this "holiday cheer” thing some lie he was concocting just to amuse himself when she came with and he would laugh at her reaction after he threw her in a dark cell just to throw away the key?

She could only imagine the endless possibilities of what “christmas cheer” meant for a man like Negan.

Seeing her continue to shake her head and get more lost in her head, he sighs and rolls his eyes as he loses his patience for her. No longer was he going to play nice… well.. nice in his book… and let her keep making him lose his interest in her. 

“Alright I’ll sweeten the deal. You come with me right now and I don't beat all your friends into mushy walker feed?” He speaks in a condescending voice to her, mirroring her head movements when she shook her head or nodded, still not really sure if she wasn hearing him right now but he was taking the shaking as a resounding yes, “Mm? Yeah? You like that option better? I thought so!”

He stands up, grabbing her arm to hoist her to her feet as well, intending on escorting her to his personal truck but it seems she was already eager to show how perfect for his pretend-kid idea she'd be when her legs don't cooperate. Having given out a while ago she couldn't even begin to get her feet under herself to stand and her lack of awareness was making it even harder for her, giving Negan a chance to show how well she could depend on him when needed.

He could be a good daddy that carries his kid to the car. Really! He could. 

“Aw.. poor kid. Don't even know how to walk yet? Guess you'll be younger than I expected. C’mon up you go.” She didn't have a clue what he was talking about, assuming he was simply taunting her to make her somehow feel even worse in the situation but then he scoops her up. Throwing her over his shoulder to carry to the truck–which… wasn't an easy task but when a father is determined… he finds a way. Apparently. Even if that means potentially throwing out his back.

He signals his men to finish the job while his driver trails behind them, climbing into the front seat of the truck while Negan tosses his not-so-little prize in the passenger seat. His new kid-in-progress makes a half-hearted attempt to get back out but he settles in beside her before she could even reach the edge of the seat. 

“Where you goin, huh? Didja think I was gonna leave your poor butt alone with this guy?” he asks in that patronizing voice that was progressively becoming more like baby talk which made the driver snicker, "Don't worry, bud. I’ll be stickin to your side like glue till you get settled in your new home.”

She stiffens up between the two men, trapped and cramped, feeling like she were a frightened lab rat in a cage just waiting to find out what dreaded experiments awaited her. Negan shifted in his seat, taking up more space by throwing one of his arms over the back seats behind her shoulders as a not so subtle way of making his authority and new creepy dominance over her known. Not that she really needed the reminder. Only way he could make her feel more trapped would be to hog tie her and put her in an actual cage. 

Negan must've read her mind about restricting her more since about five minutes into the drive he decided just letting her be squished between the two men wasn't enough. “You seem awfully uncomfortable, kid. Somethin the matter?” 

She tried to shake her head and stumble out an excuse, afraid that saying yes would make things worse but he clearly didn't care about a real answer, having his own deluded ideas made up, “Oh…! I think I get it. I understand now. You ain't used to sittin by yourself like a big kid, right? Well too bad for you that we haven't exactly prioritized findin any car seats to make you more comfortable. How bout this instead?”

He leans over and hooks his arm under her knees, the other that was resting on her shoulders moves to wrap around them just enough to hoist her the couple millimeters needed to get her over onto his lap, his arms now acting as her seatbelt–that extra layer of prison for the unfortunately long drive back to the sanctuary. 

The obsessive, parental-like torment didn't end even after they arrived at the Sanctuary however. No, after driving who knows how long, Negan continued to keep her in his grasp after he pulled her out of the truck. Proudly making a show of carrying her inside, taking his time to say hello and one-sidedly introducing her to some of the saviors they went by– something that both deepened the dread in her stomach and felt oddly humiliating. It was like a shame parade that she worried would end at the chopping block. 

Where she was actually being taken she had no idea. He might've told her or someone they'd passed by but that terrible pit in her stomach, the dissociative state that kept looming over her, and her general exhaustion from the whole day her memory was like swiss cheese. 

It wasn't until she was tossed down onto a shockingly nice couch that she even realized she’d passed out on his shoulder. She could’ve been killed or worse while she was asleep and she wouldn't have even been able to defend herself. All because her brain had decided the best option for keeping her safe was to what? Hit the power button?!

Years of human evolution and yet she still ended up more like some poor fawn that just stood there, staring wide eyed at the hunter as it aimed at her. 

Her breathing picks up as she shoots upright on the couch, her head spinning as she looks around in a panicked attempt to get her bearings. Nothing was really making sense and she wasn't taking anything in as well as she should’ve.

“Woah! Woah! Ha! So we do got a live one! I was almost worried there. Can you believe that? You almost got your new daddy all worried but you were just sleepy. Ain't that right?” Negan set his bat aside, kneeling down to get on her level in an infantilizing way but she wasn't hearing a word he said. 

In her own bubble of panic, she had so many thoughts racing that her brain didn't have room to absorb anything he said– if they even reached her ears in the first place. Negan didn't seem to particularly care if she was listening or not, his own mind was dancing with twisted interest as he imagined how this process would go with her. What he would start with to even begin transforming this meek adult into a kid he could spoil. 

Before he could really settle on a first step she was attempting to bolt for the door, like the fawn finally remembered how her legs work. Seeing her get some energy in her was something he actually enjoyed. A little excitement was fun! Kept things interesting! He didn't want a kid that was too easy to take care of after all. 

He throws his arm out and she runs right into it– clotheslining herself in the midsection and unknowingly earning herself the very first punishment as his new baby. “Now while I will give you some kudos from tryin… You really shouldn’t done that– I mean you'd been a really well behaved up until I put you down for a nap–” he grunted between sentences as he wrestled her into his arms, wrapping them around her abdomen and lifting her up until she couldn't do anything but scream and flail while he grinned. “But first thing you’ve got to know about your new daddy is– I don’t let shit slide.”

With extra difficulty due to her thrashing, he carries her towards the door she had actually aimed for. Taking her through it like he was taunting her. Letting her know she would only go on his terms. “Thats where people get it wrong. You let the small things slide at the beginning and then there's no foundation of respect. They’ll walk all over you.”

He passes down the hall and she desperately reaches out for any corner or doorway they pass by, attempting to grab them and hang on as if she could use them as leverage to pull herself free from his arms to escape. All the while he’s still grumbling words that she wasn't hearing. “No.. no. I ain't about to let you get a big head about you… Thinkin you can throw a tantrum on your first day and get whatever you want.”

They start to pass heavy doors, repetitive childish music pouring out from some of them while others had muffled sounds of screaming and yelling. He throws open one of the doors, the less secure hold only one arm had on her gave her the opportunity to wiggle herself free and try running again but he’s quick to grab the back of her hair and yank her back towards him just to toss her inside the pitch black room. She’s full force sobbing now, crawling over the disgusting floor mattress she landed on–narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the wall– making a pitiful attempt towards the door Negan's backlit frame stood in.

“Now since it is your first day… I’ll be nice with your first punishment, pumpkin. However, you best learn to listen quick or I can see you spending a lot of your timeouts here with a sore bottom in the future.” is all he leaves her with before shutting the door in her face as a sob wracks through her. She paws at the door weakly, making nearly incomprehensible pleas to be let out as it's locked and music that might've originally written to be soothing starts to pour out of busted speakers, tormenting her further with the idea of comfort. 🎶We’re on Easy Street… and it feels so sweet… cause the world is but a treat…🎶

Negan didn't feel guilty at all. In fact he left her there with a grin on his face and a solidified plan to transform her in his mind. He’d leave her in there as long as it took for her to get desperate for freedom at any cost; meanwhile he’d be having his saviors scavenging for some… nursery items as he redecorated his room for his new guest.