Febuwhumpday15 - Tumblr Posts

Hold Him Tight, Don't Let Go

Click here for my masterlist.

Add yourself to my Taglist.

Febuwhump Prompt - Hidden Scars

Prompt - ‘You're quite possibly the bravest person I've ever known.’

You panted for breath, struggling to scramble up the hill only for Daryl’s hands to grab your upper arms and drag you up, you crawling alongside him before he pulled you up and took your wrist in his hand, pulling you behind him as he dealt with yet another walker.

The herd made its way closer to you both, a walker neither of you had seen grabbed your ankle from its position on the floor. You let out a scared yell as you tried to pull your leg out of its hold, Daryl pulling on you too only for the both of you to go flying backwards onto the floor. Daryl let out a curse as pain shot through his back but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as the walker on the floor crawled towards you, ready to take a bite before Daryl bashed its skull in, turning to look at the countless walkers surrounding you.

“We gotta go,” He told you, helping you up and taking your hand in his, leading you through the crowd as you both used your weapons to kill any walkers that got too close.

“Daryl,” You struggled, a shooting pain in your side as you ran, but the man just kept pulling you along roughly, knowing that if you paused, for even a second, it could make all the difference between life and death, and there was no way you were dying on Daryl’s watch.

“C’mon, there’s a building up ahead.” He told you, raising his voice slightly over the sound of walkers grumbling.

As you entered the gas station more walkers appeared and you and Daryl struggled to get the door closed, both covered in blood as he crushed one of their heads with the heavy door, the two of you leaning your backs against it as you panted for breath.

“Ya alright?” Daryl asked you and you nodded, eyes closed as you leaned your head back.

“I’m good,” You told him before your eyes shot open at the sound of more groans as three walkers appeared in front of you. Exhaustion ran through both of your bodies but you moved quickly together as you took them all down.

“Shit Daryl,” You cursed softly as you turned to the man, his back to you as you saw blood staining the back of his shirt.

The man turned around, looking you up and down to make sure you were ok and upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary raised a questioning eyebrow up at you.

“You’re bleeding,” you told him, moving around to survey the store and finding some needle and thread. You weren’t the best at patching people up but you were the only person here and with the amount of blood on his shirt you didn’t know if he would make it back home and no way could you carry his limp body. “Sit down.”

You gestured to the floor but he shook his head, your eyes becoming even more concerned as you took in his pale, slightly sweaty face as his eyes darted around, looking at anything but you.

“Daryl,” You said softly, reaching over to gently take his arm but he flinched away from you like your touch burnt him.

“Don’t need patchin’ up,” He told you, voice rough as he swallowed a few times.

“You do,” You told him honestly, keeping your voice soft and calm, like you were talking to a scared animal, “There’s a lot of blood, you must have caught yourself when I fell.” You realised, biting your lip guilty.

“Ain’t your fault,” Daryl assured you, “Damn walkers came outta nowhere.”

He was right. It should have been a simple run, you and Daryl leaving the bike hidden in the woods as you walked on foot to scavenge for food and supplies. You’d managed to get a few things but not nearly close to what you needed but your trip was cut short as you opened a door to an abandoned department store and a flood of walkers fell out, no amount of arrows or knives to the skull would’ve helped.

As you fled into the woods, more walkers seemed to appear, surrounding the pair of you as you struggled on the uneven land and now Daryl was hurt and you were fighting to stay calm.

“Will you please let me patch you up?” You asked, turning wide eyes on him.

Daryl looked at you for a long moment, shaking his head as he backed against the wall.

“Please Daryl,” You begged, “I need you to be ok.”

It took a while before Daryl responded, letting out a shaky sigh as he lowered himself onto the floor and shifted so his back wasn’t pressing against the wall. You smiled down at him softly but he avoided eye contact so you sat behind him, pressing a comforting hand to his bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze before you lifted his shirt off.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at the man's back, there were countless deep, jagged scars littered across his back. Your hand came up to your mouth as you tried to react as soundlessly as you could.

Daryl let his eyes fall closed, hating the tears that welled up in his eyes. He sniffed and shifted before he stilled under your fingers.

You reached forward, going to touch one of the scars before changing course and brushing below the bleeding wound, wincing at his winced.

You began cleaning the cut as carefully as you could, murmuring apologies but saying nothing else, eyes flickering over to the scars that covered Daryl’s back.

“You okay?” You asked him softly, voice barely above a whisper as you were half way through the stitches.

Daryl sniffed soundlessly, glad you couldn’t see his face, glad you couldn’t see the few tears that had slipped down his cheeks. A few moments passed before he nodded, forcing out a hum as he did.

More silence passed as you tied the thread before pulling away to sit back on your knees, looking at the fresh stitches before moving to the old but still painful looking scars and you didn’t even want to know how he’s gotten them but still you couldn’t help but talk.

“They look old,” you prompted softly, reaching out to touch the longest one that spread from just below his right shoulder down past his tattoo down to the middle of his spine. You traced the length of it, feeling him still under your touch. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, pulling away again.

A long stretch of silence passed before Daryl spoke.

“S’my dad.” He muttered, voice so low and rough you barely heard the words but you managed, feeling sick to the stomach at them before you touched one of the thicker, nastier ones at the bottoms of his back, the skin felt raised and rough under your fingertips but this time Daryl didn’t flinch away, just scrunched his eyes shut tighter.

“Beat on Merle more than he did me, after Merle left…” He forced out, trailing off and he didn’t need to finish the sentence, his back did the speaking for him.

Your fingers made their way across his back with a gentle, barely there touch. At some point Daryl found himself relaxing under your touch, head bowed as memories assaulted his mind.

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered, moving your fingers downwards before you wrapped both your arms around his waist, holding him in a tight but careful grip, mindful of the new stitches, before you rested your head against his left shoulder blade.

Daryl opened his eyes, looking down at your hands resting against his stomach as you held him. He felt your eyelashes flutter against his back, felt you press a gentle kiss to one of the scars and he finally let the tears fall, knowing he didn’t need to be embarrassed in front of you, didn’t need to be strong all the time.

He let the tears fall down his cheeks freely, a few sobs making their way out of his throat as you squeezed him tighter and he placed his arms around yours, resting his head on his shoulder as you shifted further up so your hair tickled his cheek.

You didn’t know how long the two of you sat there for, you whispering words against Daryl’s back as he allowed himself to cry, gripping on to your arms like they were the only things holding him together.

__________

Daryl Dixon Taglist - @lovinnholland, @canadailluminate , @janesofia7, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29, @classyunknownlover, @cole22ann, @levisbloodcut, @alexxavicry, @mystic-writings, @lizamango, @urbestgrrl, @morganaah, @kaitieskidmore1, @loki-laufeysons-wife, @am-wd-ma, @sadblueberry721

@febuwhump prompt: "Who did this to you?"

doubles as my submission for Relationship Week: Spike and Faye and Jet @bebopcrew

***

She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and frowned at the smear of bright red blood that stood out so vibrantly against her pale skin. Well, at least she hadn't been wearing her gloves - blood was such a bitch to get out of fabric.

"Faye?" Spike's voice held an uncharacteristic note of concern.

She paused on the landing between the two short flights of stairs in the living room. Spike was sitting on the couch with a steaming cup of ramen cradled in his hands. He was frowning at her over the top of it and his worried expression along with his greeting had also drawn Jet's attention for the other man was turning away from the computer screen to see what had Spike so perturbed.

Both men were on their feet so abruptly that Faye felt like she'd somehow missed a segment of time. Was she that zoned out?

"Who did this to you?" Jet was demanding as he tried to lead her over to the couch.

Spike, grim-faced, was already rooting through the mini fridge for the small arsenal of bullets and other destructive items he liked to stash there.

Faye fobbed off Jet's tentative grasp of her right arm but wobbled alarmingly enough that he was able to successfully catch hold of her on his second attempt. Feeling far too spent to fight off his attention, Faye gave in to the doctoring that Jet began to administer once he'd gotten her onto the couch.

"Which bounty were you after?" Spike asked quietly as Jet dug through the medical kit they kept stashed in the living room.

Faye turned her head to spit out a mouthful of blood. She felt bad about that momentarily but then remembered how many times Spike had bled all over the furniture and floor in here and decided she'd earned the right to do the same on occasion.

"Goliath." She muttered. "Aptly named, turns out. Dunno what happened. I shot him. I know I did. Point blank." She'd never had an adversary react the way the giant man had. It was like the bullets she fired at him lent him an unholy strength. In retrospect, being close enough for her target to reach out and grab her was not the best idea. The whole benefit of using a gun was to keep your distance so you stayed out of trouble. But she'd assumed he would... well, at least flinch. Instead, he'd smiled the most terrible smile she had ever seen crawl across someone's face and then he'd snapped his hand out so fast that she hadn't been able to dance away from his strike.

"Jet." Spike's voice was calm yet Faye could sense a maelstrom of meaning in the tone used to address the other man. It had always mystified and impressed her how little the two men had to say to one another to communicate effectively.

Sure enough, Jet understood every portion of the things Spike left unsaid.

"I'll send you coordinates as soon as I get the location." He was still preoccupied with trying to staunch the blood flowing from a gash across Faye's right side. Surprisingly, that open wound didn't hurt nearly as much as where Goliath's fists had landed on her left hip and her right cheek, nor where his ridiculously strong grip had crushed her right wrist when he latched onto her dominant hand to knock her gun away.

Spike was already to the circular door by the time Faye blinked again.

"My gun," she murmured, wincing as Jet began to clean along the cut so he could stitch it up neatly.

"I'll find it." Spike assured her. "Tell Jet everything you know before you pass out. I don't wanna go looking for a needle in a haystack trying to find this guy."

She gave him a jaunty little salute though she immediately regretted the movement. Everything was sore or seeping blood. She hadn't had her ass handed to her that badly in years. If the sirens of approaching squad cars hadn't frightened off the bounty... well, she decided not to think about that. What ifs were pointless.

"Okay Faye... so where did this all go down and where do you think he went..." Jet began interrogating her while suturing her side.

It had been demeaning to be tossed around like a ragdoll. She didn't like having to admit there were times she was in over her head. But something in her heart swelled at how the guys jumped to offer assistance without her having to ask. Likely they knew how difficult it was to swallow one's pride and admit to needing help. But they made it so she didn't have to voice her failure at all... they just bypassed that aspect of the issue and dove straight to the heart of things - taking stock of her injuries and taking over the mission of bringing Goliath down.

Hissing at the pressure of Jet's metal fingers pinching her flesh together so he could thread the sterilized needle through the undamaged bits along either side of the slash, Faye began to recount her day and where it all went wrong...