to be cringe is to be free

Daryl’s on the floor in front of the bunk on his knees, face buried in your cunt as he savors every second he has with you before he goes out on an all-day run with Rick. Your fingers knot in his hair, sparking delicious pain through his scalp, as your orgasm begins to tighten up inside you. Daryl’s fingers curl against your walls and he’s on the verge of growling when he hears the pathetic, stupid moans he can coax out of you with them.

Then the scrape of your cell’s makeshift door being shoved aside by one of the Woodbury guys sends ice down your back. Your brain is hazy and slow from the sudden intrusion after being on the brink of an orgasm, so you don’t even move, just squeaking out something like oh, fuck as Daryl whips around. Immediately, he tosses a blanket at you and stands, turning his body into a broad brick wall so the guy doesn’t see any more than he already has.

As you wrap the blanket around your tits, shame flooding your whole body with heat, Daryl stalks forward and shoves the college-aged guy – it’s Justin, you realize, who’s trailed you like a shadow since he joined the prison – back out of the cell and into the nearest cement wall. “Y’ever heard ‘a knockin’?”

He swallows hard, eyes flicking between Daryl’s lethal expression and you peering around the doorway with the blanket clutched to your chest. “I didn’t think anyone else’d be in there.”

Daryl’s nostrils flare. He gives out another shove to the chest, this one hard enough to knock some of the wind out of him. “And that’s better? You were gonna walk in on my wife just like that? Not a care in the world? The hell you want with her anyway?”

Defensive and a bit fearful, he replies, “We’re on morning watch together. She was supposed to meet me a few minutes ago. I was just coming to find her, make sure nothing was wrong. I promise I really didn’t know you two were together.”

“That ain’t the point,” Daryl spits back. Hearing the telltale click of Rick’s boots approaching at the commotion, Daryl rolls his shoulders and sighs, “Look, it ain’t like where you came from anymore. A cell’s like a house. And you don’t want to be scarin’ our women barging into their house unannounced, do you?”

“N-no, of course not.” 

“Good.” He glances over at Rick and then huffs, “We’re alright. Just…knock next time, would ya?”

Before Justin can get a word out, Daryl sets his jaw, turns around, and heads back into the cell with you, not wanting to deal with whatever Rick’s got to say about togetherness and community after that.

He finds you changing into your clothes for the day, tying up one of his tees around your stomach so it hugs your curves. He leans against the bed frame and muses, “Stealin’ from me again, mouse?”

You give him a cheeky look over your shoulder as you shimmy into a pair of cute and comfy athletic shorts you traded one of the Woodbury women three shifts on watch for. “Like you don’t love seein’ me in your clothes.”

You’re right and he knows it, so he just closes the space between you, wrapping his arms around you from behind while you check over your appearance in the small mirror above the sink. He kisses up the crook of your neck and asks, “Y’alright?”

You shrug and sigh, “I’m just embarrassed. Don’t need everyone hearin’ stories about my nipples.”

Daryl shakes his head and assures you intently, “You’ve got nothin’ to be embarrassed about, little creep comin’ into our room like that.” He bites your earlobe and adds, “Plus, you’ve got perfect nipples. All the stories would be good.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes and not fighting the warmth in your cheeks at his comment, “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”

Daryl huffs, “Yeah, sure.”

“You’re goin’ soft, Dare,” you tease lightly, turning around into his embrace as he clutches you close. “Time was you’d’ve beat the shit out of him just for seein’ my tits.”

Daryl gives half a smirk. “He’s lucky it’s mornin’. Wouldn’t’a been so nice about it if everyone was awake.”

You kiss him and croon, “Mmm. My knight in shining leather.”

Rick’s unmistakable hard knock pops the bubble of the moment. “We’ve gotta get going here, Daryl.”

Daryl sighs and calls back, “Yeah, alright. One minute.” Then he kisses you like goodbye and mutters, “Sorry I can’t finish what I started, angel.”

You shake your head and promise, “I’ll wait up for you. Be safe out there.”

“Always. Got somethin’ to come home to.”

Once you’ve walked with Daryl all the way up to the prison gate and watched his and Rick’s car recede into the forest, you climb up the north tower and join Justin for watch.

Right away, as you settle on your stool against the back wall, he says, “Sorry about this morning.”

You give him a soft shrug and wave it off with your hand.

He posts up on the stool next to yours, your shoulders nearly touching in a way that makes your skin crawl. If he were being polite, he would’ve pulled it further away to make you comfortable. You notice. You always notice how men behave. He asks, “You don’t talk much, do you?”

Cutting him an ‘obviously’ glance, you shake your head.

“Why’s that?”

You purse your lips pointedly.

“Right, yeah. Duh.” After a few beats of uncomfortable silence, he poses, “You care if I ask you questions? I’d like to get to know you some if we’re gonna be on watch together. You don’t gotta say anything.”

You sigh and shrug. Whatever. You prefer silent partners, but it’s not like you mind listening to other people talk. If he wants to be polite and get a sense of you without forcing you to speak like other people try to, there’s no point being rude about it. Keeping the peace has always been the name of the game for you in the new world.

“Alright, thanks.” Justin gives you a sheepish sort of smile and starts with, “Ah, were you and Dixon together before everything?”

No.

“How’d he get to know you, then? If you don’t talk?” Then Justin realizes it’s too open-ended of a question and narrows, “You talk to him?”

Yes.

“Why him?”

Whatever your softening expression says, he somehow reads it loud and clear.

“Dixon looks out for you, huh?”

Affectionate nod.

“You talk to anyone else?”

Pursed lips and half shrug.

“I imagine you’ve gotta talk to Rick sometimes, right? He’s always asking for people’s input.”

Nod.

“You happy with Dixon? Ever wish you were still single?”

You glare in response and hold up your left hand, showing off your sparkly wedding ring.

Justin scoffs, amused by your belligerence. “Christ, where’d he find a rock like that at the end of the world?”

You nod out toward the towns surrounding the prisons.

“Pinched it off some dead lady’s jewelry box. Got it.”

Another shrug.

After that, Justin must decide you aren’t all that interesting and he lets you both fall into silence. You’re still on edge, though, because he keeps leering at you. It’s not obvious if he does it on purpose or not – maybe he’s just some 19-year-old who’s never seen a pair of boobs, so he’s awestruck – but it still makes your skin crawl. You can feel his eyes raking over your body, usually stopping to ogle your breasts or your thighs, and you wish you’d worn more clothes or at least a bra under Daryl’s comfy, threadbare tee.

Thank god you get to switch out with Glenn before the sun sets, off to help some of the Woodbury women with dinner prep. Glenn watches you suspiciously when you practically flee the tower, flinging yourself down the stairs and ladder. He’s been around you long enough to know the subtle shifts in your expression that mean angry or sad – or scared. This expression is scared. Maybe not acutely, the way you’d be if a walker got the jump on you, but a kind of scared that calls to something deeper. Something he can’t see from the surface.

You make yourself small the rest of the afternoon and evening, eating at the far corner of a table across from Maggie and Beth. Daryl usually sits next to you. It’s been a long time since he hasn’t. You’re not worried, not yet, but you do miss him a lot when the space is empty.

And then Justin plops down next to you, his prison-issue tray clattering onto the table as he smiles and greets the others. Then he turns to you and asks, “How’s your afternoon been, mouse?”

You stiffen up.

Only Daryl calls you that.

Tears sting at your eyes and you aren’t sure why. Just his presence is making your stomach turn in a way that feels too familiar. Beth notices straight away. Besides Daryl, she’s gotta be your best friend. She doesn’t mind how you don’t talk. Back at the farm, she’d sit with you and show you how to braid flowers into headbands or harvest clay from the nearby creek to turn into air-dry trinkets. She says it’s nice being your friend. Peaceful. Nobody else gives her time to just think and be.

So she comes to your defense. With one of her sweet Southern belle smiles, she turns to him and asks, “Justin, d’you mind sittin’ somewhere else? We’re doin’ a bit of a girls’ night thing here.”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he says with a shrug. “I’d love to know more about you girls.”

The way he says ‘girls’ makes all of them feel skeeved out, too, so nobody blames you when you excuse yourself with an awkward, flat smile, meal only a quarter eaten. Everyone knows by now that you have some history with men. You’ve never had to say anything. The other women can tell the way women have always been able to tell with one another. More than that, it’s obvious in the way you flinch away from every man besides Daryl – even Rick and Glenn if they accidentally brush past you too close.

You spend the rest of the evening in your cell, waiting for Daryl to come home. You try to sleep but can’t, so you clean the small space until it’s spotless, making sure each inch is as neat as possible. There’s not much you can do given the circumstances, but you can stop dust from taking over and you can wipe down the bed frame and you can shut your fucking brain off long enough for Daryl to come home and make you feel safe again. The group doesn’t arrive back until everyone’s gone to sleep. You’re still painfully awake, curled in the corner of your and Daryl’s bunk with your knees up against your chest and your arms around them.

Daryl tries hard to be quiet, not wanting to wake you, until he hears your soft voice: “Dare?”

He pulls the makeshift door closed behind himself and begins stripping off his dirty clothes, eyes still adjusting to the dark. Low and husky, he checks, “Why’re you still awake, baby?”

Trying to keep calm and soothing since he’s just coming back from a hard day, you lilt, “I said I’d wait up, didn’t I?”

He gives an absent sort of grunt, focusing on getting himself ready for bed. “Were things okay here today without us?”

“It was fine,” you tell him with a shy shrug, “just missed you.”

Daryl, though, sees right through you the way only he can. You’re only sheepish with him anymore when you’re hiding something. In just his boxers now, he slides onto the bunk next to you and confirms his suspicions, “That Justin kid botherin’ you?”

“Nothin’ too bad,” you reply. Soft and placating. Not wanting to cause any trouble. “He was just kinda staring at me. At my chest. I dunno. It’s not a big deal.”

“S’a big deal if he made you uncomfortable,” Daryl insists. He pulls you against his bare body, the warmth of him undoing your tense muscles, and offers, “I’ll talk to him, alright? Tell him to leave you alone if I ain’t there.”

“You don’t need to do all that,” you sigh, leaning your head back on his shoulder. As he presses a kiss to your temple and wraps you in his arms, you say, “I don’t wanna create any friction with the Woodbury people. No need to make anyone’s life any harder than it has to be.”

Daryl guides you onto your back and faces you, tugging the blanket up around you both, “So you just have to be the uncomfortable one all a’ the time? C’mon, baby, he ain’t Shane or them boys back at school. Kid’s 120 pounds soaking wet.”

“I know; I’m being ridiculous.”

He admonishes, gentle and kind, “You know as well as I do that ain’t how I meant it.”

You nestle your forehead into his broad chest and whimper, “He just got under my skin, I guess. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He almost laughs at that. “I can take a guess.”

“But it’s not- I know I’m safe here. With you.”

Bringing you in close, lips on the top of your head and one hand on your waist, Dary presses a soft kiss to your hair and murmurs, “Even if it’s harmless, that don’t mean you hafta be uncomfortable. At least let me talk to Rick; y’dont need to be on watch with him if he’s ogling your tits.” He nips your ear with a kiss and adds seriously, “‘Specially since those are for my eyes only.”

That finally makes you laugh, which lets you relax into him, secure in his safety.

The first time anyone but Rick or Daryl hears your voice, it’s not under good circumstances. You’re standing under the steaming shower during the assigned block of time when you can be alone, scrubbing off a long afternoon helping out in the garden. As you’re rinsing out the strawberry shampoo you use only a tiny amount of so you can savor it, the sound of someone pushing open the door to the communal shower block startles you. That shouldn’t be happening. There are a lot of rules about who can be at the showers when – and breaking those rules is one of the fastest ways to end up on the wrong side of a classic Rick Grimes Good Ol’ Fashioned Talking To, hand on his gun looking down like a disappointed dad.

Tentatively, hopeful despite reason, you ask just loud enough to be heard over the water’s poor pressure, “Dare, is that you?”

When there’s no answer, you crank the water off and turn around to grab your towel from the nearby ledge – but it’s not there anymore. There’s nowhere else to check, so you know without a doubt. It’s been taken. With your heart climbing into your throat, you peek your head out past the thin plastic curtain to see if your clothes are still on the nearby bench. Pure delusion. Or desperation, maybe, to convince yourself you aren’t in the position you undeniably are. Everything’s gone.

When you see Justin’s squirrelly form shadowed in the corner of the shower room, your blood runs cold.

“You’ve got a pretty voice,” he tells you as he steps into the light. Quiet. Almost ashamed – but not enough to stop. His eyes slide over your naked body and the gaze is so heavy it might as well be his hands on you. “Pretty everywhere else, too.”

“You don’t wanna do this, Justin,” you whimper as you cover as much of yourself as you can with your arms. Fight or flight mode fills your veins and your eyes dart toward the exits. “You know what’s gonna happen if you hurt me. Rick’ll send you away or- or Daryl’s gonna kill you.”

“Who says I wanna hurt you?” He shakes his head and starts to close the distance between the two of you, forcing you to back up until your ass hits the tiled wall. “I just wanna have a good time together. Nobody has to get hurt.”

You’re painfully aware of the pocket knife clipped to his belt. An unspoken threat. Nobody has to get hurt. You take a shaky breath and do what you think Daryl would want: Keep yourself alive. With your heart rate still climbing toward the roof, you offer, “Look, I can- I’ll do whatever you want, alright? Just not like this. Not now. Not where anyone could walk in and-”

“Nobody’s gonna walk in,” he interrupts with a condescending smile, “not during sweet little mouse’s shower time.”

But he doesn’t know what you know: Daryl always patrols the halls when you shower. He’d come in with you just to be your watchdog if Rick didn’t disapprove of ‘that kind of nonsense’ so much. He’ll hear you if you scream. You just have to scream.

Come on. Come on.

Just make noise.

Just be loud.

The first time you try to scream – something you haven’t had to do in months – it comes out hoarse and meek, a pathetic “Help!” that only gets Justin to snap. He snatches you by the wrist and yanks your naked body against his clothed one. He’s not trying to force himself on you yet, just restraining you, and you’re not going to give him the chance to change that. You thrash against him because this is not going to happen. Not again. You fight hard, elbows and ankles and shoulders all working in tandem against his strength. You curse yourself for not going out running and fighting with the stronger women.

With his hand covering your mouth, Justin hisses, “Nobody can hear you all the way down in the cell block, sweetheart. Why don’t you just stay calm and-”

You bite down on the meat of his palm. Hard. Hard enough that he screams and his blood coats your tongue. When he whips his arm away in shock and anger, so surprised he’s unsure of his next move, you muster up everything you have and wail out, “Daryl! Help!”

Relief shatters through you when Daryl’s unmistakable heavy footsteps echo up the hall in response, quickly turning into a run when you call out for him again and again, the force of your scream enough to have Justin shoving away from you. By the time Daryl’s in the shower block, you can hear more people following a ways behind.

Justin starts to run away from you, attempting to escape out the door on the side wall, but Daryl’s bursting in like a bullet within seconds. It only takes him a nanosecond to understand the scene – his wife naked and cowering, an asshole sprinting the other direction – and all you can think is that Justin’s lucky Daryl’s not wearing his bow right about now.

While you back yourself into a stall again to try to hide your body from the oncoming crowd, Daryl pins Justin beneath him and beats him. Savage, unrelenting, bloody. With your vision obscured by the concrete partition, all you can see is the righteous fury of Daryl’s toned back and arms raining down.

It’s not until Justin’s completely limp and bordering on consciousness, nothing but a moaning pulp on the floor, that Daryl turns back to you, still naked and shivering in the corner. You’ve got your arms crossed over your bare chest as you tremble from the cool air on your wet skin. 

You whimper out, “He- he took my clothes and my- my towel, too. I don’t- don’t know where he put them.”

“Christ,” Daryl hisses. He helps you to steady yourself, peels off his shirt without a thought, and tugs it over you, guiding your arms through the fabric. He pulls the hem down so that it covers your ass and your upper thighs like a kid in a nightdress. His eyes take quick stock of you and he notices the bruising ring around your already weak wrist. Daryl growls darkly, “He touch you?”

When you nod timidly, Daryl turns around, hoists Justin to his feet, and slams him against the nearest wall. You hear the crack of his head on the tile and wince. “This what you get off on? Scarin’ the shit out of someone when they’re all alone and helpless in the fuckin’ shower?” He digs his forearm into Justin’s throat hard enough to make him wheeze and snarls, “What, nothin’ to say for yourself now that it’s me and not my woman?”

Justin starts to say something, but Daryl just scoffs and shoves his arm in further. Daryl’s still got him pinned when Rick appears moments later, flanked by most of your group, his gun drawn. As soon as the situation makes itself clear, Carol and Maggie rush to your side and create a wall with their bodies so nobody else sees your mostly-naked state. Maggie calls to Beth, “Run back and get her somethin’ to wear.”

Beth disappears and everyone else is averting their eyes while you turn into shame and embarrassment. When Rick sees all Justin’s blood dripping down onto the wet floor, he goes to grab Daryl by the shoulder, but Daryl shakes him off and growls, “Little fucker was getting off watching her shower. Stole her goddamn clothes and grabbed her. Fuck knows what he might’a done.”

Rick presses his hand to Daryl’s arm this time, not pulling him away but trying to keep his attention. “Daryl, he’s a kid. Let go and we can work this out.”

“Nineteen ain’t a kid,” Daryl spits back, only pushing harder on his neck, not caring about the pathetic choking sounds as Justin’s lips turn a shade of blue. “He walked in on her the other day, too. Buggin’ her during watch and shit. He’s been plannin’ this out. How’d you act if you’d caught him pervin’ on Lori like that, huh? If you thought he was gonna hurt her?”

Rick chews on the idea. He looks over at you and asks, “What happened?”

You swallow hard to hold back the tears that want so badly to fall. With your eyes on your toes as you shiver, you tell Rick, “He cornered me. Took my towel, like Daryl said. Hid my clothes. Told me I had to stay quiet and he was gonna- gonna-”

You shake your head, unable to speak any further, and Daryl’s heart splinters when you start to cry. His sweet, sensitive girl. His fierce, badass girl. He snaps his fingers at Glenn, who gets the message, swapping places with him and holding Justin against the wall. With the sounds of your stress filling the space, turning from sniffles to big heavy sobs, Rick doesn’t stop him from restraining Justin. 

Daryl stalks across the room, nodding gratefully at Carol and Maggie for protecting your decency, and wraps you up in his strong arms, not caring about your wet hair and body. He feels you shaking and clings tighter. Cradling your head to his chest, Daryl tells Rick sternly, “We ain’t stayin’ in the same building as that pervert another goddamn second.”

Rick nods slowly. He lets out a long sigh and calls over his shoulder, “Carol, pack up enough food and water for a couple days. Clear out his cell. Glenn and I will drive out and leave him somewhere.”

That manages to get Justin to croak out a sound: “You can’t just abandon me out there; I’ll get bit before you even-”

“Trust me, kid, I’m doing you a favor.” He gives Justin a mean look full of judgment and offers, “If you’d rather I leave you here to take your chances with Daryl, I’d have no objections, but I don’t think your odds would be very good.”

Justin sinks back into himself, any fight left in him gone. Rick and Glenn haul him out of the shower block like a proper prisoner.

With too many people lingering to gawk, Daryl covers your ears and shouts, mean and sure, “Now everyone get the fuck out of here!”

He grabs your set of clothes from Beth, who’d quietly rejoined, and then waves her off, too. You stay behind him as everyone filters out, already gossiping about what they did and didn’t see. This is going to fuel the conversation for weeks to come.

Daryl hastily helps you get dressed in your sleep shorts and tee, taking his own shirt back and using it to help dry your hair off.  You can barely move on your own, so you yield to him maneuvering your arms and legs around with the utmost care. When he’s finished, he doesn’t even have to ask before scooping you up in his arms.

You wrap your legs around his hips and bury your face in his neck, too ashamed to bear looking at anyone you might pass on the way to your cell. Daryl kisses the side of your head over and over. He murmurs assurance against your ear the whole walk back. You still cling to him after he’s opened and closed the makeshift door, not ready to trust your own two feet again.

Daryl just sits down on the bed and settles you in his lap. He rubs your back and soothes you as you try hard to stop the unrelenting tears. Gentle and true, he murmurs against your ear, “It’s alright, baby, you can cry.”

Clinging to his shirt like a baby blanket, you shake your head and whimper, “I don’t wanna cry over something stupid like that.”

He reassures you gently, “It ain’t stupid. He scared the shit outta you.”

“Shouldn’t be scared by some pathetic asshole when there’s walkers and worse out there, when you and Rick go out and face real threats-”

“None ‘a that shit,” he cuts you off, tone urgent and loving. He strokes your cheek with his thumb and insists, “Y’wouldn’t say that if it were Beth he was botherin’. You matter just as much as anyone else.”

“I don’t.” Your voice is tiny. Harsh. “People only tolerate me because of you.”

He tilts your chin up and searches your eyes. “You know that ain’t true; you’re just pickin’ on yourself. You ain’t just another number. You’re quick and you’re quiet and you’re clever; that means you can do a hell of a lot more than half these loud macho assholes.” Then he presses a gentle kiss to your lips and adds, “Even if it was true, we’re a package deal. Anyone decides they don’t want you around, then they ain’t gettin’ me either.” You swear there are tears threatening his eyes as he whispers, “You’re my world, mouse, don’t go forgettin’ that.”