Just here to appreciate the man that is Norman Reedus and his characters. Slowly dipping my toe into the world of Fanfiction writing, we'll see how that goes!!!! So requests are OPEN!!!! If anyone has any requests I'd be happy to give them a go, although no smut, just yet 😉 !!! Masterlist
A/N: bet you hoes thought you’d seen the last of me x
tw: allusions to sa but no actual acts committed, just the fear of what men can do
Instincts
The moment you regain consciousness, your survival instincts are kicking in. Before even opening your eyes, you are aware that wherever you are right now, Daryl is not with you; there are binds on your wrists that keep them at your back and binds at your ankles to stop you from running - if Daryl was anywhere nearby, there’s no way in Hell you’d still be restrained. The right side of your face feels cold, pressed against a concrete floor. The left side of your face feels hot, stemming from a particular point just above your temple - point of impact, blood, possible concussion. How you got here is unclear; it would be a waste of time to focus on that.
Blinking as hard as you can, you clear your blurry, barely conscious vision. Four walls, two windows on the left and right, one door on the wall in front of you, off-centre to the left. Naturally, you are curled in the furthest corner from the door, where you appear to have been thrown, because you have no memory of army-crawling your bound self over here. There’s a silver lining if you’ve ever seen one: your back is not exposed, you can focus entirely on what’s in front of you. Namely, the three idiots who thought tying you up in wherever this is, was a good idea. Your brain is fighting hard to recognise any of their faces, but you can’t - they must have snuck up on you. And they wouldn’t have been able to sneak up on Daryl, so they must have waited for you to separate from him and snuck up on you. Blood running cold isn’t a new feeling since the world ended, but it feels entirely different now.
Even in the world before, any girl’s survival instincts would go haywire if she woke up in an unfamiliar room, tied up by three unfamiliar men. Particularly when you realise they could have covered your mouth, but they haven’t, because they aren’t as worried about you screaming as they are in need of that particular body part. But there’s one thing the end of the world brought you that will change the predicted outcome of your current situation..
“Jus’ sit tight.” Daryl forced one of his knives into your trembling hands, thinking you and your wide eyes looked like the kind of doe too pretty to kill - Merle called him a pussy the first (and only) time he’d used that excuse as a boy.
“B-But, what if-“ You were stuttering in a way Daryl got, but he’d never felt in your place.
Out in the world was where he belonged. That world ending didn’t change that for him, just meant he had to share it with a whole lot more uglies, and…some people that weren’t ugly in the slightest. Fighting for his life is what he’d always done, he wasn’t afraid of that, but folks like you? He knew from one look in your terrified eyes, you’d never felt fear like this. The kind that paralyses you. And Daryl recognised you had every right to feel that: the world you knew had ended, you were thrown into a makeshift camp with total strangers, grieving the family you’d lost and trying to find some sense of normality when the walkers came from the woods. You saw them get Amy, and you froze, because as much as you frantically looked around the camp, you knew Daryl wasn’t there. The one person you felt you could turn to for protection, the one time he left camp to go and look for his asshole of a brother. And you couldn’t cry out. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. A walker was stumbling towards you and you barely had it in you to take slow, unsteady steps back from it. The bolt that was shot through its skull was one you recognised, and in a blur you were grabbed, dragged until your back was no longer exposed and was instead against the wall of the RV.
“I won’t let ‘em.” Daryl answered you, leaving no room for you to argue even in your panicked state.
All you could do was nod, trembling hands gripping his knife.
“Jus’ sit tight, lemme handle it. Don’t draw attention.” Daryl instructed in the typical gruff fashion you’d already become accustomed to.
And he did as promised. Bolt after bolt from his crossbow flew through the air, bullets from the gun he carried and the guns in the hands of the others, too, took down the walkers that had invaded the home you had all been foolish enough to believe was safe. And when it was all over, Daryl came right back to you. It was actually difficult for him to get his knife back from your shaking hands, they were gripping it so hard. He could tell by your breathing you were in some sort of shock, so he did the one thing he remembered his mama doing for him when he was real small and cut his knee bad: he pulled you into his arms. And it wasn’t awkward, just like it hadn’t been when he was a boy, because it was needed. That reminder that you were safe. He needed that just as much as you did.
Years have passed since then. Or, at least, your best guess at years. You’re stronger now, more independent, more resourceful, and you can protect yourself. But in this moment, bound and trapped, your instinct to start shit talking is overshadowed by those exact words from Daryl when you’d felt this same uncertainty in his absence: sit tight. So, you keep your mouth shut, and your survival is governed by a version of Daryl in your subconscious. Slowly so as to not draw attention to yourself, you shuffle yourself around until you’re sitting up in the corner of the room, with your bound legs bent to your chest. Your tied wrists at your back are concealed by the rest of you, and as futile as the effort might be, you start picking at the rope from any awkward angle you can in an effort to loosen it. Raising your eyebrows up and down a few times, you can feel the tug of your wound, and the beginnings of dried blood crusting around it - you’ve been here, unconscious, more than a few minutes, but the heat of fresh blood you can still feel means you’ve not been here very long.
“Would you look at that, our girl’s back with us!” One of the men jeers, smacking the back of one of the others to get him looking over at you.
If Daryl was here and heard them call you that, they’d be dead already. That thought gives you a small amount of comfort.
“Awh, cat got your tongue, little lady? C’mon, don’t be shy!” The third man smirks at you, and as he starts walking over to you, your knees instinctively draw closer to your chest.
It takes everything in you not to react when he crouches down in front of you, one of his hands grabbing your jaw. You want to spit right in his face, but that would only escalate things beyond your control. Sit tight, sit tight. You focus on your breathing. Focus on looking past this ugly fucker, through him, to the door on the opposite side of the room. Hoping, willing, praying; dissociating.
“Pretty thing like you needs some strong men lookin’ after her.”
Unfortunately, you’re not dissociated enough to miss those words from the man still crouched in front of you. But you’re grateful for that, because if you had been, you might’ve missed the subtlest creak from just outside the door. A moment’s pause. A second’s silence. And then the door slams against the wall, kicked open by a boot you barely have time to recognise before a bolt head from Daryl’s crossbow appears right between the eyes of the man who had been crouched in front of you, but is now a crumpled corpse on the floor.
“She don’t.” Daryl grunts.
The other two guys are quick to recover from their shock, attempting to tackle Daryl together, but he’s faster. They think this is his first rodeo? Man…you almost feel sorry for them. Except for the fact you don’t. At all.
You probably shouldn’t take any amount of joy in seeing Daryl easily take down two other guys with his bare hands, but it’s hard to shake the warmth that spreads through you, seeing and accepting the fact that he’s come to get you. That he didn’t stop looking until he found you, and the moment he did, he was ready for war. Punching both the guys down, Daryl’s quick to grab his crossbow from where he’d dropped it in favour of beating these guys to death, and fires another bolt into one of the guy’s stomachs. Leaves him to fall to the floor while Daryl drops his crossbow again and tackles the only man left standing, straddling him and throwing punch after punch after punch, until everything’s red. Guy’s face, Daryl’s fists, guy’s shirt, Daryl’s pants. Red. He only stops when he registers the guy under him is unconscious, and then he’s standing up, stalking over to the other guy who’s clutching at the bolt in his stomach, and doing the same damn thing. That guy, Daryl punches until he stops breathing. He didn’t intend to quit it, but your voice was the only thing that wasn’t red.
“STOP IT!”
It wasn’t the words you said or the way you said them, it was the fact that in them, Daryl could hear tears. You were crying. And that would shift his focus in any situation. Standing back up, he retrieves his crossbow from the ground and fires one last bolt to the only guy not left impaled, leaving one dead by bolt to the face, and two left to turn by bolts in the stomach. Let them rot.
Everything’s different when it’s Daryl crouching down in front of you, using his knife to cut the rope from your ankles and wrists. His bloody hands trembling around the blade, but not from fear. The ropes fall to the floor in tatters at the same rate as the tears rolling down your cheeks, but Daryl’s thumbs are there in a blink of an eye. Wiping your tears away, leaving smeared blood stains on your cheeks. He sees that look in your eyes again, like a blast from the past. A wide-eyed doe, too pretty for a world like this, but you’re here still.
Very gently, Daryl’s hands trail down your arms, lifting them and bringing them to his neck. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with what he’s doing, but as soon as you realise, you’re shakily leaning into him. Daryl’s arms wrap around you, pulling you flush to his chest and holding you there. Where he wishes he could keep you forever. Tucked away safe.
“Thank you.” Is the sniffle that comes from you.
“Don’t need thankin’, girl.” Is Daryl’s gruff response, but the way he huffs and drops his head to your shoulder tells you he’s getting bashful, and that makes you smile.
There’s quiet, then. Just for a few seconds. Holding each other in a room filled with dead bodies shouldn’t feel as warm as it does, but when the world ends, you make do with what you have.
“Home?” You break the silence, your voice soft.
“Home.” Daryl nods against your shoulder.
And neither of you are referring to the place you ought to be heading back to.
plot: Daryl and the reader get to know each other in the gray hours of the morning, and he needs to decide whether or not she's a good person and someone he can trust around his family.
series masterlist
Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader
Word Count: 2,530
Warnings: violence, blood
A/N: thanks for reading!
The rain had dulled into a softer downpour, and the thunder echoed in the distance. Still, you decided to fill every possible container with rainwater. You insisted it would be less work cause it wouldn’t have to be boiled.
Daryl couldn’t exactly get a read on you. Anyone out here alone couldn’t be in the best mindset, and if you were telling the truth and you had been out by yourself since nearly the beginning, well, he couldn’t imagine the toll it had on someone. This world was hard enough without having to go at it alone.
Despite that, you seemed decent enough. He didn’t believe you to be a threat, at least not while he was awake. And he couldn’t figure out why you didn’t shoot him back in the woods when he pulled the crossbow on you. He believed any sane person would’ve. But then again, he didn’t let the arrow fly either.
The treehouse seemed okay enough, and he didn’t miss the stockpile of ammo in the room. You had quite a collection of ammo. You were just missing something to shoot it with. You had plenty of knives, though. Enough to gut someone ten times over. But you didn’t have one on you. You’d set it down. Did you trust him? Did you not care if you lived or died?
Waves of frustration rippled off him; the thunderstorm and walkers had ruined what was supposed to be a simple run. And hell, Rick wasn’t even supposed to have joined them. Not with Lori due in a few days, and the group barely has control over their cell block. They barely had enough food to keep them going, which was the only reason why they were out there in the first place. The food they got from the prisoners wouldn’t last them long, and they needed real meat.
He looked up and glanced at where you were sitting. You’d moved over to the window and pulled back the makeshift curtain, the breeze flowing in. Each time the distant lightning cracked, he could make out the features of your face since you’d moved away from the fire.
“You said you went to medical school?” Daryl asked you.
It took a moment before you realized he’d even asked a question. “I did. I was about to start my residency. Why?”
He hesitated for a moment. “You know anything about delivering babies?”
This captured your full attention, and you looked away, “Why? You due soon?”
Daryl didn’t sense the sarcasm in your tone, “Ain’t for me. Got a friend. Due in a couple days.”
You shook your head, “I don’t know much. Besides, you said you wouldn’t tell me about your group.”
Daryl snorted but didn’t say anything as he leaned back against the wall. Bringing her back, someone with medical training, that would be big. Hershel wouldn’t be alone, and you might know more about humans. Still, it’d be a risk. He didn’t know if it was worth perusing. They’d been okay with just Hershel…
“I have a group,” Daryl said, “There’s eleven of us. This is how this works. You tell me your story. Tell me who you are and what you’ve done. Maybe if everything’s good… maybe I bring you back with me.”
You continued looking out the window, and Daryl started to think you hadn’t heard him cause the silence stretched so long. But finally, you turned to look at him, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would you bring me back with you? You don’t know me….”
“You coulda shot me in the head, coulda left me to die in the woods. I mighta survived, I mighta. But you helped me. Even now, you sit with no weapons. You ain’t even lookin’ at me. I don’ think ya dangerous.”
You smiled sadly, “No, I’m not dangerous.”
“I tell ya what. You tell me what I wanna know. We pack this place up and go when the storm clears.”
“You just want my supplies and medical help with that baby,”
Daryl shrugged, “Maybe. But ain’t that the way the world works now.”
Again, you were silent and you looked out the window for a few minutes. Finally, you took a deep breath and looked at him. “How about this. We tell each other what we both wanna know, and I decide if I wanna trust you.”
Daryl nodded slowly, “Aight, that’s fair.”
***
The wall was cold against your skin, and the rainwater splashes made you shiver even more. The fire was dying, and the treehouse was growing darker. You slowly moved from your spot and put more logs on the fire. Then you went to grab an old can of peaches and gave Daryl another can of food too.
“I was up in Atlanta when everything happened. Liam was one of those survivalists, always thinking about the end of the world. He wasn’t crazy about it. I mean, hell, he was right. But he knew things, and he knew how to take care of himself. So when the world went to shit, we got the hell out of Atlanta. He said that if there’s a cure, he will wait it out,
“So we took off, headed down south. His parents lived around here. They didn’t make it. But this treehouse was his. He and his dad built it years ago. It used to have stairs, but we knocked them down when a dead one got up on the porch. We fixed this place up together. I’ve been here since.”
“Winter musta sucked,”
You laughed and nodded while taking another bite of your food. “It did. There’s no insulation. I got snowed in a few times. But Tora and I… we managed. It’s been just us since October, I think. I don’t know,” You shook your head, “I had some family down here too, but I checked their place out, burnt down and overrun, just like every other shithole.”
“And before? Before all this?”
“Why does it even matter? I was just a normal person. I was in school, engaged, and living the dream in Atlanta. It doesn’t matter.”
Daryl nodded, “It’s easy to think that way,”
“Not sure there’s any other way to think,” You said, “So what about you? Your group, been together before?”
He shook his head, “No, we met each other on the road. We’ve lost a few people, gained a few people too. We’re holding up nice now if we can make it work. Our leader, Rick, and his wife are pregnant. Abouta pop. We have a man that can help, but I don’t know. I figured someone else might help too.”
You nodded and looked around the treehouse. This was a place you knew before and after. A place that you loved and hated. It was home and a prison, with memories that hurt every time you stepped in. And you were alone. And you were tired.
“Your leader, Rick… will he take me?”
“He will. You helped me, you coulda killed me, and you didn’t. Plus, you got medical supplies and ammo. Our group needs both.”
You glanced at your stockpile. Your lifeline. Could you trade that? What if they took it and killed you right after?
Daryl seemed to sense your hesitation. “I could kill you right now if I wanted to. I coulda killed you too, back in the woods. Woulda been real easy to just pull the trigger. But I didn’t. I’m taking a leap of faith here, too, (Y/N).”
“Can Tora come?”
This made Daryl laugh, and he looked at the giant cat stretched out by the fire. “Yeah, yeah. We probably got a rat problem. We’ll keep her busy. Everyone pitches in. Besides, we got a kid. He’d probably love an animal around.”
You nodded and tossed the empty can aside. “I’m really familiar with the area. Been here before and after. You tell me where your camp is, and I bet I can get you there.”
“We at a prison,”
Your eyebrows rose. “I know what one you’re talking about. About twenty miles north of here, right? Liam and I saw it a while back. It was full of walkers.”
“Not anymore.”
“Big group,” You said, your stomach tight with nerves. “If they kill me, promise me you’ll make sure Tora lives.”
The archer chuckled, “No one’s gonna kill ya.”
“I have a car. About two miles north of here is Liam’s parent's house. I keep some stuff there sometimes. If no one’s broken it, we can get to it once the storm clears and the sun’s up. I’m not walking twenty miles again.”
“Me neither,”
***
Sometime in the early morning, sleep found you. When your eyes opened a few hours later, the sun had been up for at least an hour. It took a few seconds before your memory came back to you and you jumped up, looking for the stranger from yesterday.
The treehouse was empty, and your stockpile was gone. And so was Tora. “Son of a bitch,” You muttered, getting up. You grabbed your matchete and ran to the door. It was slightly ajar, and you nearly fell over when it opened so easily.
“Jesus, you tryin’ wake everythin’ up around here?” Daryl stood by the balcony's edge, lowering the baskets with some rope.
“I thought….”
“Yeah, I know what you thought, but I didn’,” Daryl said, “I was gonna wake ya up soon. Your cat brought a rabbit back.” He nodded his head behind you, and you looked back. It had already been gutted, cleaned, and cooked. You stood in disbelief for a second.
“Oh… where is she?”
“On the roof,”
You grabbed a few pieces of the tender meat and looked up to where she was gnawing on some bones. You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head at her.
“Your bag, the one you dropped by the lake. Anything important?”
“It was just water. And some clothes. Everything else is damaged from the water.” You said, going back for a few more pieces. After yesterday, you were starving.
“Good, didn’ wanna walk all the way back there,”
You nodded and took one last piece before disappearing back into the treehouse. It seemed Daryl had grabbed everything. Except on the table were a few of your personal belongings. Your gun, leg holster, ring, and a photograph of you and Liam together. Your still-wet shoes were on the floor next to the table.
Taking a deep breath, you took a photograph from the frame and folded it, then put it in your back pocket. Your attached the hostler and then looked at the ring. It wasn’t anything crazy, but it was a beautiful ring. Still, it ached your heart, and you couldn’t bring yourself to put it on. It didn’t feel right. Liam was gone. You weren’t. And you needed to think of a future where you survived, not memories that would hold you back.
After pressing a quick kiss to the ring, you laid it gently along the small fireplace’s mantle. It was newly built. It wasn’t there before. But now, the ring would sit in the treehouse where it belonged. Where it could stay forever with Liam’s spirit and memory.
“You aight?”
You looked back at Daryl and nodded, “Yeah. Let’s go.”
“It’s been quiet this morning. I think the walkers followed the storm south. The cat doesn’t seem worried.”
You nodded and walked past him. Everything you needed to bring was already on the ground. “I’ve been here almost a year. Kept me safe. It feels so final.” You said.
“We goin’ someplace better. Don’ got the time to be all wishy-washy about it.”
You chuckled at his bluntness and walked towards the rope. “Yeah, I know.”
***
Carrying all your supplies was much more difficult, and the two miles seemed to stretch forever. Each of you had bags on your shoulders and were carrying boxes of supplies. But finally, the yellow house came into view, and you sighed with relief.
You didn’t need to say anything, your reaction alone told Daryl you were there, and he felt relief too. When you approached the garage door, you looked through the glass window and banged a few times before opening it.
“I’ve picked through the house a few times. There’s really nothing to take. Anything worth taking I already did,” You said, walking over to the boxes of old Christmas decorations and donation boxes that never made it out.
Underneath a Christmas tree box were the keys to the white Jeep Wrangler, and you unlocked the car quickly. It only took another minute to get it loaded up.
“We lost the soft top a while back, left it at a storage unit in Atlanta, if I’m being honest.” You said. Suddenly your eyes widened, “Hold on, I gotta get something from the house.”
“I’ll come with ya,” Daryl said.
You glanced towards Tora, who happily sniffed all the boxes and other crap around the garage. “I’ll only be a second; watch her.”
You disappeared into the house, banging on a few walls to ensure no dead ones were around. You and Liam had locked the house up pretty tight. Just as suspected, there was nothing. And you quickly grabbed what you were looking for. On your way back, you passed another few boxes of donations and paused.
In the garage, Daryl was getting antsy. He checked the supplies and then rechecked them. He wanted to get on the road and get back to his people. He wanted to know if Rick, Glenn, and Maggie had made it. He didn’t wanna wait any longer.
Just when he was about to go look for you, you walked through the door carrying a bag in your arm and a cat carrier in the other.
“I don’t trust her not to jump out of the car,” You said, shoving the carrier in his arms. “And I got this. Figured they shouldn’t be wasted, and I didn’t know how many baby supplies you got. It’s just some clothes and a few toys. Nothing else, sadly.”
“Lori will love this,” Daryl said quietly, setting down the carrier and taking the box from you. “You might be her favorite person after this.”
You laughed as you grabbed Tora, earning a few hisses as you tried to put her in the carrier. It took two tries, but finally, she was sitting rather unhappily and a bit overstuffed. “It’s only for a little while, baby,” You said, putting the carrier in the back seat and strapping it in, all while ignoring the few hisses she gave in displeasure.
“Here,” You said, tossing the keys to Daryl. “This way, your people don’t think I got you hostage or something,”
Daryl only nodded and opened up the garage door, taking a quick look around before climbing it. You were just buckling in when the car roared to life, and he took off.
plot: a nice introductory to the reader and a sense of who she is
series masterlist
Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader
Word Count: 1,287
Warnings: violence, blood
A/N: thanks for checking out the first chapter! Just a nice quick introduction to the character :)
You’d woken to the sound of something thumping against the wood floor of your home and the loud meow of Tora. She’d taken it upon herself to catch breakfast for the two of you, a fat squirrel. After the unexpected meal the two of you shared, you knew what needed to be done. Today was run day. And you were out of water.
So you geared up, an empty gray canvas pack on your shoulders, your one good gun strapped around your leg, a machete at your waist, and a few other knives hidden around your body. You were always prepared.
The morning spring bite nipped at your cheeks when you stepped outside the tiny home. Your eyes scanned the ground below for any signs of the dead, and you listened for the rustling leaves of footsteps. But there was nothing. You were safe for now.
It was easier climbing down the tree than up, though Tora made it look relatively easy. But you weren’t lucky enough to have claws to help you, so climbing down the rope was your only option.
The rope slid easily enough through your leather glovelettes and soon your boots hit the ground. Tora was waiting for you, sitting by the main tree trunk holding your home.
“Yeah, yeah,” You said to the cat, “Let’s go find water before we die of thirst, huh?” You said to the cat.
It was silent as you walked towards the lake four miles from your home. The sky above you was full of puffy white clouds, and the trees around you kept you mainly in the shade. A few birds sang above in the treeline, and every so often, Tora chased a squirrel up the tree. By the time you reached the lake, you had two hanging from your belt, and the day was warming up.
Licking the sweat off your upper lip, your knelt by the water’s edge and started filling up the empty plastic water bottles you had. Tora splashed around in the muddy, sandy mix of the lakeshore and chirped at the little fish that darted away from her.
You chuckled to yourself and moved on to another bottle. The sun was now at the midpoint in the sky, and you scolded yourself for taking so long to get to the lake. The Georgia heat this spring seemed unforgivable, as if whatever God that sent this plague was sending another sick joke. The idea of summer being around the corner kept you up at night. You hated the heat.
Just as the fourth bottle was filled, a branch snapped at the tree line. Then came the familiar moaning, and you looked up in time to see two deads headed your way. Tora hissed at the sight of them and darted toward the nearest tree.
“Good girl, Tora,” You said, screwing the bottle shot and standing. It thudded to the ground, and you grabbed the machete and twirled it once in your hand. Your eyes darted between the dead as you worked out a plan.
They were moving slowly, no doubt cause of the heat and decaying parts of their body. But still, they were persistent. The closest one attacked first, and you ducked, bending around its outreached arms and kicking it to the ground, just in time for the other one to reach you. Your machete hit the skull first, and the body dropped, giving you a second to pull it out.
Blood speckled your face like freckles as you turned and grabbed the last dead one by the throat. Its arms reached out to hold you, but you quickly ended it before it ended you. Its body joined its partner on the grass, and you flicked the machete before stabbing it into the ground, cleaning the blood off.
You whistled a three-note tune and heard Tora meowing. The Maine coon cat was among the most intelligent animals you’d ever trained.
“Come on, baby,” You said, “The day is just getting started.”
***
If your watch was correct, it was nearing four in the afternoon. This meant you had about four hours until sunset and were a long way from home. After the lake, you took the familiar southern trail to a small state park. A few abandoned RVs that you’d picked clean weeks ago told you that you were very close to a small town that was mostly deserted.
You whipped the seat off your forehead as you approached one of the first buildings you’d have the courage to check out. It was a town hall building with nothing good except a few dead bodies. Apparently, small-town governments weren’t on the top evacuation lists.
Tora trotted alongside you, her head just below your knee, and her hair matted from today’s journey. You’d have to brush it out for her when you return home.
You ignored the town hall building and walked through the town's main street. It was utterly silent, save for the scuff of your boots and your cat's occasional meow or hiss.
“Okay, last time we were here, we checked out the library,” You said to the cat, “I think we should check out the corner store next. Odds were that it’s been picked clean already, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. I also am going to need summer clothes….” You trailed off as you shielded your eyes from the sun. The morning clouds had grown darker, but the hot sun still managed to peak out. You heard some thunder in the distance but couldn’t tell how far or where it was coming from.
“If we need to make camp tonight, we can go to the library,” You said. You’d had to spend the night in the town several times, and the library was the safest place to get to. It was easy to climb to, and Tora was familiar with it.
The corner store had a few things you could scavenge; a few Tylenol travel packets, some jerky you found underneath the shelves, and an assortment of lights and matchbooks. Tora even found something; the broken shopkeeper bell.
Still, there was nothing you really needed. There was no ammo or water. Those were your top priorities.
You checked a few other small shops; a gunshop, nothing, a bank, for the hell of it, and then finally a thrift store, where you found plenty of clothes. You took your time going through the section, trying to weigh out what was best for the summer heat. You needed to keep cool, but you needed to be protected. You found a couple shirts and shorts, new undergarments and socks. Your bag was filled to the brim, and you knew it was time to head back.
“Crap,” You muttered when you walked back to the front door. Tora meowed in her own disapproving way.
The sudden downpour and oncoming thunderstorm would keep you there tonight. Tora wouldn’t venture into the rain unless absolutely necessary, and you felt the same way.
“At least we found some jerky,” You said.
It wasn’t hard to build up a makeshift camp in the building. Dozens of once-donated blankets provided ample bedding for you and Tora, and there were enough books to get a small fire going in the back of the building. With only four bottles of water, you took ample care of gutting and cleaning a squirrel for dinner for the two of you. It wasn’t long before you put the fire out and settled in for the night.
Words: 6,258
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Reader pronouns: she/her
Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan
Warnings: strong language, gore, typical TWD, sexuality
Summary: Y/N and Daryl view the valley from the lookout and then run into a snowstorm.
A/N: This is part of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post: The Master List.
Previous Chapter - Chapter 18
Your name: submit What is this?
Daryl stood rigidly beside you as you pulled in a last measured breath and then put your eye up to the spotting scope. For a moment, the silence was nearly deafening, broken only by the snuffling of the dogs nearby in the snow. He watched as you moved the scope in a systematic zig-zag, finally focusing it farther into the distance toward the valley. With the naked eye, it appeared to Daryl simply as a wide swath of clean snow, rippling with a little shadowed topography, as if an artist had pressed a sweeping stroke of titanium white oil paint there with a palette knife. In contrast to the surrounding mountains, you could call it flat, but there were rolling foothills and expansive stretches of what Daryl guessed was old river plains.
Words: 5,746
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader
Reader pronouns: she/her
Era: S10/S11, The Reapers
Warnings: strong language, violence, gore, blood and injury, angsttttt
A/N: All gifs made by me. :) This is Part 9 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List!
Summary: The group continues through the subway tunnel and runs into trouble with the dead. Coming out on the other side, they set off to resupply and regroup.
Previous Chapter - Part 8
As if the creaking and groaning in the pipes wasn’t bad enough, then you came to the corpses. None of you had seen the massive walker rise up behind Gage and Negan was the first one to spring into action. He managed to pin it up against the wall, but it struggled against him, nearly overpowering him as everyone stood watching. It looked as if Negan wouldn’t be able to hold it. “Ah, shit,” you swore aloud and darted over and stabbed it in the side of the head with your blade with a grunt of effort. It stilled immediately and slid down against the wall at your feet. Negan stumbled back, out of breath. “Jesus…” he murmured, glancing at the slime and skin that had slipped off the enormous rotter with disgust. You didn’t say anything in return and the two of you looked back at the rest of the group. All eyes were on you and Negan. You hung back and kept your mouth shut as the arguing started and rose to a near fatal conclusion.
Things didn’t get any better… It wasn’t long after, when you’d all nearly finished your work on clearing the tunnel, that Alden realized Gage and Roy were gone, along with most of the supplies you’d all set aside.
“Shit,” you swore under your breath. “This is what all our fucking arguing got us. That’s most of our rations, our batteries for the flashlights. And we’re blocked here anyway,” you said, gesturing to the train car. Negan was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. Daryl punching him across the face to shut him up seemed to have made an impression, even if it was mostly to avoid Maggie’s rage overboiling and activating her itchy trigger finger.
Summary: Nearly 10 years ago, you left home after a bad incident with your parents, Rick and Lori Grimes.
In that time, you married a redneck down south and started a family. But it all came crashing down when the dead started to walk.
Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 9.3k
Warnings: language, blood, injury (just the usual twd warnings)
A/N-
This fanfic is a commission for one of my lovely followers who wanted a Grandpa Rick Grimes story with Daryl Dixon x Ricks Daughter.
I really hope she likes this story and I hope the rest of you enjoy it as well xx
The spray of the garden sprinkler washed over you, cooling your skin from the scorching Georgia summer heat. The water did nothing but make your wavy hair more wild than usual, sticking to your neck and the sides of your face as you stood on the grass, enjoying the coolness.
You closed your eyes for a few seconds soaking up the peaceful moment, but it didn't last long before the all too familiar sound of your kids shouting had you opening them again.
"You missed, dumbass!"
Your eldest boy was running across the lawn and for an eight-year-old, he was fast, leaving his younger brother in the dust. Little Merle Dean was holding his new water pistol in Ricky's direction, but it was empty.
"Richard Daryl Dixon. Watch your language." You warned, giving your eldest a stern look causing him to roll his eyes.
"But Uncle Merle says it all the time!" Ricky pointed out.
"Listen to ya mother!" Daryl's gruff voice suddenly called out.
You glanced over your shoulder to find him walking out the back door of the house, a bottle of beer in one hand and a water pistol in the other. He had ditched his usual sleeveless shirt. It was probably sitting on the laundry floor, drenched from the water fight earlier. He was now shirtless, showing off his toned stomach and tattoos, and you couldn't stop yourself from staring.
Ricky didn't dare argue with his father. The boy simply nodded before he went back to running around like crazy under the sprinkler.
"Dean, come over here, buddy. I'll fill your gun back up 'n we can shoot ya brother together." Daryl said, waving him over.
You smiled watching the two of them, little Dean now grinning ear to ear while Daryl used the hose to refill his water pistol.
"Y/N, your phone is ringin'!" Merle's voice shouted from inside the house.
Who would be calling you on a Saturday afternoon? You weren't rostered on to work today, unless someone called in sick and they needed you to come into the nursing home. God, you hoped not. As much as you enjoyed being a caregiver in that place, you enjoyed spending your days off with family more.
Merle walked outside, a dart between his lips and your flip phone in his hand that was ringing loudly. You walked over and gave him an appreciative nod before taking the phone, not recognising the number that was calling.
"Hello?"
"Hey, kiddo." A voice you hadn't heard for nearly 10 years said through the phone.
Daryl was now running around the backyard with the boys, shooting the water pistols and jumping over the sprinkler. Merle was leaning against the veranda post, watching his brother and nephews in amusement while he smoked, but you were barely paying attention to any of that.
"Hello? Y/N, you still there?" The voice said after a few seconds of silence.
"Y-Yeah. Yeah. I... I'm still here. Hi, Uncle Shane." You answered, trying to wrack your brain as to why he was calling after all these years.
Ever since you left home nearly 10 years ago, you hadn't heard from your parents, let alone Shane Walsh. Things went bad, you parted ways with your parents on a bad note... not so much with your father, but with your mother. Things went bad, and your father had taken Lori's side, not surprisingly, so you had left and never looked back.
So, why, after all this time was Shane calling you?
"Man, it is good to hear your voice, kid." Shane sighed.
"How did you even get my number?"
"I'm still a cop. It wasn't hard to find, especially when your name and details are in the system. Nice speeding ticket by the way."
You rolled your eyes, "that wasn't my fault. There was a snake sticking out the hood of my car, I panicked."
"I forgot about your fear of snakes." He replied, unable to stop himself from laughing. "How have you been anyway? What are you doing these days?"
"Not to be rude or anything, but I know you didn't call me for the first time in 10 years just for small talk. Uncle Shane, what's going on?" You asked seriously, your heart rate starting to increase as you thought of all the things that might've happened. Was it Carl? Did something happen to him?
Carl had been a baby when you last saw him. It broke your heart having to leave your baby brother behind, but you couldn't stay there. You couldn't stay in that house with your mother, not after everything.
"It's, uh, it's Rick. It's your father..."
"What happened?" You asked, your stomach dropping at the thought of something horrible happening to your dad.
You might've cut ties with your parents all those years ago, but you still loved your dad. You were his little girl, the two of you used to do everything together and the thought of something bad happening to him made you feel sick.
"There was an accident at work... he's in a coma."
"What?!"
You must have spoken louder than you thought because Daryl stopped in his tracks from where he was standing under the sprinkler. His crystal blue eyes met yours from across the yard, worry and confusion washing over him. Merle had turned to face you as well, his smoke long forgotten when he noticed something was wrong.
Tears burned in the back of your eyes, and you swallowed down the lump in your throat before repeating in a calmer tone, "what? What happened?"
"He got shot in the line of duty... but, Y/N, he's not waking up."
You had to grab hold of the back door to keep yourself upright, your legs threatening to buckle as you gasped at Shane's words. Your dad was shot? He was fucking shot and not waking up from a coma... oh God.
"Merle, can you watch 'em?" You heard Daryl call out.
"You need to come back home, Y/N. It's not looking good." Shane admitted and that was all it took for the tears to spill from your eyes.
"Okay." You whispered, sucking in a deep breath before closing the phone, hanging up just in time before it slipped from your now trembling fingers and crashed onto the pavement.
"Hey, hey. What happened? Who was that? Y/N, sweetheart, talk to me." Daryl said, suddenly appearing in front of you.
His calloused hands cupped the sides of your face and you looked up at him through watery eyes. You opened your mouth to respond, but you couldn't speak past the sobs that escaped your lips.
Daryl was quick to usher you inside, not wanting the kids to see their mother on the verge of a breakdown before he pulled you into his chest, hugging you tightly.
You cried in his arms for what felt like hours, Merle remained outside entertaining the boys while Daryl held you. He was still clueless as to why you were upset, but he didn't push the topic, knowing you would tell him when you were ready.
After a while, the tears stopped falling, your body still shaking in his arms before you pulled away and hastily wiped your tear-streaked face.
"I'm sorry." You whispered, shaking your head at yourself.
"Don't apologise, sweetheart. Are you okay? Who was that on the phone?" He asked, his voice gentle and caring, but there was a hint of protectiveness in his tone with the last sentence.
"My uncle... he said that my dad is in a coma. He said, it isn't looking good and he's not waking up."
Daryl's expression dropped at your words, not expecting you to say that. You barely talked about your parents. You had told him what happened and why you left home, but you rarely spoke of them. Daryl never spoke of his own parents either and you know not to ask about them, especially his dad. His dad was a piece of shit and you were happy when he finally drank himself to death 18 months ago.
"I'm so sorry." He whispered, looking at you sadly.
He knew you had a complicated relationship with your father. You hadn't spoken to him in years, Daryl had never even met him, but you still loved your dad and Daryl knew that.
"My uncle said I should come home." You added after a few seconds of silence.
"I'll come with ya."
You shook your head, "you and Merle leave for your weeklong hunting trip tomorrow. You can't."
Daryl cursed softly under his breath, completely forgetting about the trip that they had spent months planning for.
"I'll take the kids with me. It'll be like a holiday for them, they've never been to King County." You continued to say, knowing Daryl would cancel his trip in an instant for you, but you didn't want him to have to do that.
"Ya sure?" He asked hesitantly.
You nodded, trying to give him a reassuring smile as you fiddled nervously with your grandfather's dog tags around your neck. Going back to King County meant seeing your mother and you weren't sure if you were ready for that... you weren't sure if you'd ever be ready for that.
Daryl's eyes glanced down to the dog tags. He knew that was your nervous twitch, fiddling with the silver chain and tags to ease your anxiety. You didn't even know you did it, but Daryl knew.
"Why are Merle's tags from Basic with your Grandfather's Vietnam tags?" He randomly asked, instead of questioning why you were nervous.
Daryl knew exactly why you were nervous though. But, he didn't say it and you smiled softly, knowing he was trying to distract you from your thoughts.
"Merle is family too, so he is part of the necklace." You simply answered, pulling the silver chain out from under your shirt to show him the dog tags on the end.
Daryl raised his eyebrows, "ya do know my brother got kicked out the army, right?"
You chuckled, "shut up and help me pack my bag. Merle can handle the kids for another ten minutes."
Daryl glanced over his shoulder to make sure Merle was okay with the kids. You followed his line of sight to find Merle laying on his back, Ricky and Dean standing over him, spraying their water guns at point blank into his chest.
"Maybe it was a good thing he got kicked out." You commented causing Daryl to snort softly with a laugh.
-
Less than 24 hours later, the world as you knew it came crashing down around you when the dead started walking.
You never made it to King County and by the time you returned to your small country town, it had been overrun and the Dixon brothers were nowhere to be found.
Your old burner phone had worked for a short period of time. Longer than most people's iPhones, but even then, your flip phone stopped working, no phone signal anywhere. The last thing you heard from Daryl was that him and Merle were packing up, getting ready to evacuate, but were waiting for you and the kids to get home.
They must've had to leave in a hurry though because there was a scribbled note stuck to the fridge with one word, 'ATLANTA.'
You found Merle walking along the outskirts of Atlanta City, his hand cut off and covered up with a bloodied rag. You bandaged it properly for him, your sons both freaked out and curious about their uncles missing hand. Merle took you back to their camp by the quarry, but by the time you got there, it was barren. They weren't there anymore.
It wasn't long after that you met the Governor, and now nearly a year later, you were living inside Woodbury.
Merle was quick to become one of the Governor's soldiers. Working on guard shifts, going out on patrol and protecting the community. With that job came a decent house that he shared with you and the boys.
Merle made sure you were safe. He stood up with Daryl not around, taking care of you and the boys.
Your sons shared a bedroom and went to bed with full bellies and thick blankets. You were safe behind the walls of the community, but there was just something about the Governor that didn't sit right with you. You couldn't place it though and the boys were safe, that was all that mattered, so you ignored the feeling.
You had just put the boys to bed and began doing your usual walk around the block for some exercise. It was late, the town lit up by the streetlights on the footpath while the moon shone brightly in the clear dark sky above you.
It was usually peaceful during your nightly walks, but tonight you could hear voices shouting in the distance.
"Kill them! Kill them!"
Kill who? What was going on?
You followed the noise, the voices getting louder and louder until you rounded the corner and found half the town standing together in a crowd, surrounding something. Seriously, what the hell was going on?
"I asked you where your loyalties lie. You said here. Well, prove it." The Governors voice shouted.
You weaved your way through the mass of people trying to figure out what was going on, but stopped when you saw the bloodied eyepatch over the Governors eye. Okay, something must have gone down. Who hurt him and what the hell was happening?
"Prove it to us all. Brother against brother. Winner goes free. Fight to the death!" He continued to shout, and you followed his line of sight and had to do a double take when you saw who was standing in the middle of the circle.
Daryl fucking Dixon.
Holy shit.
Him and Merle were standing side by side, but Daryl's arms were tied behind his back. Why was he tied up? What were the brothers doing in the centre of the crowd like that? What the hell was going on?
Wait, what did the Governor mean by 'fight to the death'? He didn't mean...
"Y'all know me!" Merle suddenly shouted, throwing his arm in the air. "I'm gonna do whatever I got to do to prove..."
He didn't finish the sentence and you watched in horror as he punched Daryl across the jaw, knocking him to the ground instantly.
"No!" You screamed, rushing forward, but one of the Governors soldiers held you back. "Get your hands off me! That's my husband! Get the fuck off me!"
You thrashed in the mans hold, but he wouldn't let go and there was nothing you could do except watch as Merle kicked his brother in the stomach, sending him rolling a few metres away in the dirt.
"...that my loyalty is to this town!" Merle finished shouting.
Merle reached down to land another punch, but Daryl bet him to it and slammed his fist into his brother's face, sending him stumbling back a few steps from the unexpected hit. He jumped to his feet and tackled Merle, the two of them now on the ground, hands wrapped around each other's throats while they spoke in a hushed tone that you couldn't hear.
Suddenly, Daryl's head snapped up towards the crowd, his eyes raking over the civilians frantically until he spotted you. Your hazel eyes locked with his piercing blue ones and a look of relief washed over him, but it was short lived because the Governors men began leading walkers on snare poles towards them.
They both quickly got to their feet, going back-to-back, no longer fighting each other and now working together whilst they punched and kicked the walkers away.
"Let me go!" You yelled, trying desperately to get free of the man still holding you, so you could help them, but he wouldn't let go. "I said, let go!"
Without warning a gunshot cracked across the night sky and the man holding you suddenly fell to the ground, dead.
You were momentarily stunned before the gunshots continued and more of the Governors men began dropping like flies. Whoever the shooter was, they were on your side. That was all that mattered.
Smoke grenades began exploding, the rapid gunfire continuing around you while the crowd of people screamed and ran for their lives as walkers began staggering in out of nowhere. Shit, that wasn't good.
"Daryl! Merle!" You shouted, trying to look through the cloud of smoke before you came face to face with one of the walkers. "Shit."
You jumped backwards, reaching for your knife only to realise that you had left it at home. Rookie mistake. Damnit.
"Y/N!"
It may have been a while since you last heard that voice, but there was no mistaking who it was.
A second later, a familiar crossbow bolt impaled the walker's skull, killing it. You yanked the bolt back out and turned to find Daryl lowering his crossbow with a look of relief on his face.
"Holy shit." You gasped, sprinting the remaining distance before wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
"Are you okay?" Daryl questioned, his voice rougher than usual and you knew he was trying not to cry.
You pulled away, handing him the bolt while looking him up and down, taking in the blood and bruises.
"Am I okay? You're the one bleeding. Are you okay? Jesus, I can't believe you fucking hit him!" You shouted, glaring at Merle over your shoulder to find him fighting off a walker.
"M'fine." Daryl dismissed, not caring about his injuries as he scanned his surroundings before focusing back on you. "The boys are they..."
His voice broke as he spoke, fear washing over him, and you quickly realised that he thought they might be dead.
"They're fine." You hurriedly reassured, grabbing his hand with yours and squeezing it. "Ricky and Dean are fine. They're sleeping in their bedroom as we speak."
"I hate to breakup this little reunion, but we need to get the fuck out of dodge people!" Merle yelled, rushing back over to you.
"Let's get the boys and go. The others are outside the gates waiting." Daryl said, looking around trying to figure out which house was yours.
"The others?" You asked in confusion, already leading Daryl down the street, Merle right behind you watching your six.
"I found some people. Been with 'em for a while, they're good people." He reassured and you simply nodded, trusting him.
"Officer Friendly waiting out there?" Merle asked with a tone you didn't quite like and Daryl nodded.
"Officer Friendly?" You asked.
"I'll explain later. Which house?" Daryl questioned and you pointed to the red roofed building to the left and you all sprinted across the street.
You unlocked the door, but didn't get a chance to step inside before your sons were rushing out the door and hugging you. Deans body was trembling as he clutched to your leg tightly, Ricky not much better as he lifted his head, those beautiful blue eyes filled with unshed tears.
Your heart shattered seeing your boy like this. The gunshots and screaming from earlier were loud, it must have woken them up and you weren't home when they did. No wonder they were so scared.
Fighting back your own tears, you leant down and hugged them tightly.
"There was shooting outside, so-so I grabbed Dean 'n we hid behind the couch until we saw you coming." Ricky explained and a small swell of pride washed over you.
"You boys are so brave. Thank you for looking after your brother, I'm so sorry I wasn't here when you woke up. But while I was gone, Uncle Merle and I found someone." You said, letting go of the boys before taking a step to the side, motioning towards Daryl standing behind you.
The boys' eyes turned to saucers, "daddy!"
Daryl dropped to his knees just as the kids jumped into his arms and he held them tightly while whispering apologies for not being there. He was crying. The kids were crying, and you may or may not have let a few tears fall as well.
"Guys, we need to go." Merle called out, stabbing another walker through the eye.
"Boys. This is going to be scary, but I need you to be brave for me, okay?" Daryl said softly, looking down at the kids who wiped their eyes and nodded, putting on their brave faces. "This place ain't safe no more, understand? I found some friends 'n we're going to live with 'em, but first we gotta get through some bad men and the dead."
"We're brave, Dad." Ricky declared, standing up straight and grabbing Deans hand who nodded, mimicking his big brother's posture.
Daryl smiled proudly at his sons before he stood up and glanced over at you and Merle with a questioning look, silently asking if you guys were ready.
You both nodded before you grabbed Ricky's free hand. "You don't let go of your brother and you don't let go of my hand, got it?"
"Got it." He nodded.
Merle pulled out a knife from his belt and handed it to you before the group of you made your way back down the street. You ducked and weaved between houses and trees, avoiding the Governors men and the remaining walkers that were inside.
Apparently, Daryl's group had gotten into the community through a gap in the wall, so that's where you were heading.
"It's just down here!" Daryl shouted in a whispered, pointing down the alley between two houses.
Ricky's hand was still grasping yours tightly, Dean holding his other hand as they kept up with the pace while you all rushed down the alley.
"Get down!" Merle's voice suddenly shouted.
You didn't have a chance to question it before Daryl was shielding you and the kids with his body, ushering you down behind the garbage bin as gunfire erupted.
The boys both screamed, crying in terror as you dropped to your knees and pulled them into your chest. Daryl's gaze met yours briefly before he was running away and returning fire with a rifle, drawing the attention away from you and the kids.
Your arms tightened around the boys, holding them against you and away from danger as you hid behind the garbage bin.
It wasn't until the gunfire stopped, and the grunting and swearing started that you began to worry. The boys were still latching onto you tightly, but you lifted your head up over the garbage to find Merle and Daryl both fighting hand-to-hand against the men.
Shit. They weren't winning those fights, at least not without getting hurt themselves.
"Boys, I need you to stay here while-"
"No! Don't-don't go. Don't go!" Dean cried, his hand tightened around your shirt, snot and tears falling down his face.
"Hey. Hey, sweetie, it's okay. I need to help Daddy and Uncle Merle, okay? I'll be back soon. I promise. But, I need you both to stay right here, stay hidden behind this bin and do not move, got it?"
Ricky nodded, "we won't move. But you'll be back soon?"
"I promise."
"Pinky promise?" Dean sniffed, looking up at you through teary eyes.
You smiled softly and held out your pinky, shaking it with his. "I pinky promise."
The boys both nodded, reluctantly letting go of your body. You gave them a bright reassuring smile before you stood up, knife clutched tightly in your hand.
You spared a quick glance over your shoulder, relived that they both listened and remained hidden safely behind the bin. Merle grunted in pain and your head snapped back up to find him pinned against the brick wall by two of the Governors men.
"C'mon fellas, ya know me-" Merle began to say before one of them punched him square in the jaw.
You didn't waste any time, sprinting across the alley before you sunk the blade of your knife into the neck of the guy that had punched him. You yanked the knife out swiftly before Merle head butted the other guy causing him to stumble back and fall on his ass.
You quickly looked over at Daryl who was fighting off his own men, swinging his crossbow and clipping one of them in the face.
"Go help, Daryl. I got this." You said, nodding in your husband's direction.
Merle hesitated for a split second but nodded and rushed over to his brother before you looked back to where the kids were hiding. In hindsight you shouldn't have taken your eyes of the bad guy, because before you knew it you were being thrown against the wall.
Your forehead slammed against the red bricks with a loud thud. Your vision went for a second and you feared you were going to pass out, but you blinked away the white dots that clouded your vision. Your ears were ringing loudly, and you faintly heard Daryl scream your name in the distance somewhere, but you couldn't be sure.
What you did know was that you couldn't die here. Not like this. You had to survive. You had to survive and protect your kids.
Your head was spinning a little from the hit, but you managed to spin around and swing the knife in the man's general direction. He ducked out the way just in time, but didn't expect you to throw the knife at him.
The weapon spun through the air, and he managed to raise his hands slightly to try and block it, but he wasn't quick enough before the blade pierced straight through his eye. You watched as his lifeless body toppled to the ground and you let out a shaky sigh of relief.
"Nice throw." Daryl commented, walking over to you.
"Thanks. I learnt a lot living with two rednecks." You replied with a grin, turning to face him.
Daryl's lips cracked into a smile at your words, but that smile soon faded when he saw the cut on your forehead. By the look on his face you knew it wasn't good. You could feel the blood from the cut trickling down the side of your face, staining your dirty blonde hair and collar of your shirt.
"Shit, Y/N-"
"Get the kids. Make sure they're okay." You instructed, not wanting him to worry about you when the boys were scared and alone right now.
"I got 'em. Help ya wife." Merle said, yanking his knife out the last guy before he walked over to where his nephews were hiding.
Daryl was in front of you in an instant. His blue eyes wide and panicked as he stared at the cut before he pulled the red rag out from his back pocket and pressed it against the wound. You hissed at the sharp pain it caused causing him to wince sympathetically, but he kept the pressure on it to stop the bleeding.
"Can't believe your red rag has survived this long into the apocalypse." You teased, trying to lighten the mood, but it didn't work by the heated glare he shot you. "Relax, baby. I'm fine."
"Ya ain't." He muttered, pealing the rag away to inspect the damage closely before frowning and pressing it back down. "This needs stitches. Damnit, Y/N. I just found you 'n nearly lost ya on the same damn day."
"Hey." You said gently, lifting your hand and cupping the side of his face. "I'm still here. You can't get rid of me that easily, Dixon. I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere."
Daryl held your gaze for a few seconds, like he was almost scared to look away in case you disappeared before he eventually nodded, and you replaced his hand on the rag before he turned to check on the kids who were both in Merle's arms. Their heads were buried in the crook of his neck, blocking their view of the blood and dead bodies the three of you left behind.
"C'mon, we gotta go." Merle ordered, briefly glancing up at the rag you were holding to your forehead before giving you a questioning look.
"I'm good. Let's go."
You picked up one of the handguns from the ground, biting the rag between your teeth while ejecting the magazine. There were still bullets left so you slammed it back in and actioned the slide, loading a bullet in the chamber.
With one hand holding the gun, you grabbed the rag from your mouth and pressed it back against your forehead. Daryl's eyes were on you the entire time, those beautiful blues still filled with worry but there was a hint of pride flashing across them as he watched you.
Daryl took the lead, crossbow over his shoulder and rifle in his hand while you and Merle were close behind.
"Eyes on me boys, okay? No matter what happens or what you hear, you keep your eyes on me and stay quiet." Merle instructed when your sons lifted their heads from his neck, trying to look around to see what was happening.
They both nodded, and to your relief and slight surprise, they kept their eyes glued to their uncles face while the three of you continued down the dark alley.
It didn't take long before you were through the hole in the wall and trekking through the woods.
"He won't be happy to see me, brother. Glenn neither." Merle muttered quietly, breaking the silence.
You looked over at Merle in confusion, but he was staring at Daryl who just shook his head.
"Don't matter. They're gonna have to deal with it, alright? End of story."
You wanted to ask who they were referring to, but didn't get the chance to ask any questions before you reached a clearing in the woods. There was a man waiting and you stopped in your tracks when you saw who it was.
Rick Grimes. Your father.
"What is Merle doing here? And why does he have kids? Did you steal them? I swear to God if you-" Rick stopped midsentence when his eyes flicked over to you and widened in pure shock. "Holy shit, Y/N?"
His hair was a little longer now, a little greyer, and he was now sporting stubble instead of his usual clean-shaven look, but all of that was the furthest things from your mind as you stared at your father.
It was him. It was really him. Rick was alive and he was here... how the hell was he alive?
You wanted to run to him. You wanted to call out to him. To say something, but you couldn't get your body to move. Tears blurred your vision, and you couldn't stop the small, strangled sob that escaped your lips as you covered your mouth with a shaky hand.
"Dad?" Your chin trembled, trying not to try cry, but it was a losing battle because silent tears were already spilling down your face.
"What?" Daryl and Merle both questioned in utter confusion.
Rick shortened the distance between the two of you in an instant and pulled you into his chest.
"You're r-real?" You whispered, voice trembling as you clutched the back of your father's shirt for dear life.
Your bloodied rag and injured head long forgotten as you hugged your father for the first time in 10 years.
"Yeah, baby girl, I'm real. I'm real." He whispered, holding you tightly. "I thought I was never going to see you again. I thought..."
Ricks voice broke, unable to finish the sentence.
That was all it took before you broke down in his arms, wracked sobs ripping out of you. Rick held you tightly, resting his chin on top of your head as he rubbed soothing circles over your back.
Neither of you moved or said anything for the next few minutes. He didn't want to loosen his hold on you, scared that if he let go then you might disappear again. But, eventually, Rick pulled away, his hands resting over your shoulders as he held you in front of him, not ready to let go just yet.
His own eyes were glossy with unshed tears, matching your own as you shook your head, unable to process this.
"I-I need to say something." He started to say, his voice rough, thick with emotion as he cleared his throat, but you knew what was going to say.
"Dad, it's okay-"
"No. No. It's not okay." He said cutting you off with a shake of his head. "I should have stopped you. I shouldn't have... Christ, Y/N, I'm so sorry."
"Dad..." You trailed off, not knowing how to respond before he pulled you back into a hug.
"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything." He whispered and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop the tears that kept spilling as you thought back to the last time you saw him.
10 years ago
"Wait, what do you mean that my savings account is gone?" You asked, looking over at your mother who was folding your clothes into a laundry basket.
"I'm sorry, but it's gone." She shrugged, not looking at you as she spoke.
You stared at your mother for a moment trying to figure out if she was being serious or not. Surely she wasn't serious. You've had that savings account since you were 10 years old. Every ounce of pocket money, birthday money and your pay checks from odd jobs between school all went into that account. It couldn't be gone. It couldn't be.
"Well, where did it go?" You asked, trying to remain calm.
"I had to use it to buy my new car. My old one broke down, remember? We couldn't afford to pay for-"
"So, you used your daughters savings account without her permission to buy yourself a fucking car?!" You shouted, all effort into trying to remain calm flying out the window at high speed.
"Whoa, whoa, why are we yelling? I just put Carl down for his nap." Your father said, walking into the room.
"Did you know she used my savings account money to buy that SUV?"
Ricks eyes widened at your words before his head snapped to Lori who was still folding the clothes, acting as if this wasn't a big deal.
"You said your father gave us that money."
A small part of you was relieved to know that your father hadn't known about it, but you were too angry at your mother to really care.
"I knew you wouldn't like it if I told you the truth. But we needed the car." She said defensively.
"Stealing from our daughter is not the answer!" Rick shouted in his whisper.
"I've been saving that money since I was a child. You had no right!" You hissed, anger soaring through your veins.
"I had every right. The amount of money I've wasted on you. Food, clothes, toys, school. Everything."
"I'm your daughter. That's what parents are meant to do!"
"Do you think I wanted a daughter like you? I never wanted you in the first place!"
Her words were like a slap to the face and you physically recoiled, taking a step back in a mixture of hurt and shock.
"Lori." Rick warned, glaring at his wife.
"What? We were teenagers Rick. We were still in High School when I had her. She was an accident, we didn't want her then and I don't want her now." Lori snapped, finally putting the laundry down to look at you, hatred and disgust flaring in her eyes.
"Wow, Mum." You chuckled, because if you didn't laugh then you would cry.
"Y/N-" Rick began to say, but you cut him off.
"No. Dad it's okay. If she doesn't want me, then fine. She gets her wish."
Without saying anything else, you walked out the room and grabbed the duffle bag from under your bed before filling it with your possessions. You slipped on your boots and jacket before marching back out into the main room, duffle bag over your shoulder.
"Y/N, darling, what are you doing?" Rick asked worried.
"I'm leaving and I'm taking Mum's car. She bought it with my money, so it's mine." You simply said, grabbing the keys from the bench.
"You are not!" She yelled, abruptly standing up. "What are you going to do? Live in the back of the car?"
"Yep."
"You wanna go live like some homeless person? Let me show you what that's like."
Lori snatched the laundry basket from the table before storming out the front door. You quickly followed, your father right behind you as she tossed your clothes over the porch railing into the dirt below.
"Mum, what are you-"
"Go live like a freaking homeless person!" She shouted, her face red with anger. "But if you get in that car, don't you ever come back. Ever."
You looked over at your father, tears now burning in your eyes, but he didn't say anything. His face was pained like he wanted to say something, and you were hoping, praying that he would stick up for you, but he remained silent and lowered his head.
"Dad?" You whispered, your voice breaking.
He didn't look at you. He didn't do anything.
"Get your butt out of my freaking house!" Lori screamed when you didn't move.
Carl suddenly started to cry from inside hearing the commotion which did nothing but make your mother angrier. You looked back at your dad, but he still wasn't looking at you.
"Fine. Have a nice life." You muttered, tears silently falling down your face as you walked down the steps, picking up the clothes you wanted before you got into the car and sped off.
Present Day
"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have let Lori... I should have said something. I-"
"Yeah, you should have." You agreed, sniffing and wiping away your tears as you nodded. "I forgive you though."
His eyes widened, like he couldn't believe what you were saying. You smiled sadly at him, but didn't get the chance to say anything else before Daryl stepped forward with the most shocked and confused look on his face that you had ever seen.
"Rick Grimes is your father?" Daryl asked.
"Wait, you know her? How do you know my daughter?" Your Dad questioned before you could say anything.
"She's my wife."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I'm his wife." You repeated, holding your hand up, showing the wedding ring.
Rick stared at the ring for a few seconds before looking over at Daryl, noting his golden ring too before he looked back at you, his jaw dropping, but he seemed unable to say anything.
"Does that make me your son-in-law?" Daryl asked, the confusion on his face morphing into amusement as he looked at Rick.
Your father coughed, seemingly choking on his own saliva as he stared at Daryl with an unreadable expression before glancing back at you and shaking his head in clear disbelief.
"This whole time you've been talking about your wife and kids... and I've been talking about my daughter..."
"It's been the same fucking person. Yeah. Now, can we get a move on? We're sitting ducks out here man." Merle muttered, already walking past before Rick quickly put his hand out, stopping him.
Your father suddenly looked annoyed as he stared at the older Dixon before he noticed the two boys still in Merle's arms. You could see the gears turning in his head before realisation washed over him.
"Yes. They're your grandchildren. Congratulations Grandpa." Merle said sarcastically before looking at the rest of you. "Seriously, we need to go. Now."
Rick let Merle walk past, Daryl walking beside him, but before you could follow, your Dad grabbed your arm.
"I know we have a lot to talk about. It can wait. But, do you trust Merle Dixon with your sons lives?" He asked skeptically, looking over his shoulder at the boys still clutched protectively in Merle's arms.
"I do."
Rick stared at you for a moment before simply nodding, trusting your word and the two of you trailed off after the brothers.
Although, it seemed that Rick Grimes wasn't the only member of Daryl's group that didn't like Merle. The second you guys reached the others who were waiting by a green Sedan parked on the road, the man you now know by Glenn Rhee, had went ballistic when he saw your brother-in-law.
Within a blink of an eye, the woman in dreadlocks had her katana raised at Merle. You quickly stepped in front of him, raising your handgun at the woman because there was no way you were letting her hurt Merle, especially not when he was still holding the boys.
"Put it down." You warned, finger resting on the trigger.
Maggie and Glenn suddenly raised their pistols at Merle, and Daryl appeared beside you, the two of you blocking the others from getting to him and the kids.
Rick suddenly stepped forward protectively, drawing his Colt and aiming at the katana woman, not liking how close that blade was from your neck.
You weren't a hundred percent sure why these people hated Merle. They were part of Daryl's group, but clearly something had happened between them to gain this kind of reaction.
"If it wasn't for him-"
"He helped us get out of there." Daryl said, cutting Glenn off.
"Yeah, right after he beat the shit out of you." Rick responded.
"Hey, we both took our licks, man." Merle piped up.
"Jackass." Daryl muttered, glaring at his brother over his shoulder.
"Hey, shut up." Merle exclaimed.
"Enough!" Rick ordered, sternly.
"Mummy, what's going on?" Ricky asked, his voice wavering slightly at the raised voices.
"Nothing. The adults are just talking, okay? Everything is fine, right guys?" You said, glancing over at the boys still in Merle's arms before you turned back to the others to find the katana woman taking a step closer with her sword raised. "Hey, put that down."
"Get that thing outta my face!" Daryl snapped, throwing his hands in the air at Glenn.
Merle suddenly started to chuckle, "man, look like you've gone native, brother."
"No more than you hangin' out with that psycho back there." Daryl snapped.
"Oh, yeah, man. He is a charmer, I got to tell ya that. Been putting the wood to your girlfriend Andrea. Big time, baby." He teased, looking at the katana woman.
"Merle, shut the hell up." You snapped, not taking your eyes off the others. "Look, I don't know why you guys hate him. I could probably guess because my brother-in-law isn't much of a people person, but we are not continuing this screaming match with my kids in the line of fire. So, everyone back the fuck up. Now."
To be honest, you were not expecting them to all listen, but to your surprise, the woman lowered her katana and the other two reluctantly lowered their guns. You glanced over at Daryl and Rick before you lowered your own gun, tucking it into the back of your waistband.
"Let's all just take a breath, alright?" Rick said calmly, holstering his pistol.
"I'm not having him at the prison." Maggie stated.
"Why?" You asked.
"He tried to kill Glenn."
You looked over at the man in question, taking in his red swollen eye and bruises that painted his face. Merle did all that? Shit, no wonder he was hostile when he saw him.
"I had to do it." Merle said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You tried to kill me!" Glenn yelled.
"I was followin' orders, man."
"What are you talking about?" You asked, turning to face Merle properly.
"If I didn't do what I did... the Governor threatened to kill you and the kids. I didn't have a choice."
"He did what?" Daryl questioned, anger rising in his voice.
"I couldn't let the Governor hurt her or them." Merle said, looking down at the boys in his arms. "I couldn't. So, I did as I was told and... look, I'm sorry, okay?"
Glenn's furious expression vanished instantly, replaced with an emotion that you couldn't quite place. He glanced over at you before looking at your boys in Merle's arms and he sighed.
"Okay."
"You're not forgiven though." Maggie quickly added.
Merle nodded, "I know."
-
After being squished together like sardines in a can inside the SUV, you eventually reached the front gate of the prison that Daryl and Ricks group called home.
There was a woman with short grey hair and a little boy standing guard by the gate. The moment they saw the car, they both looked relieved and hurried to open it.
You stared at the brown-haired boy in the Sheriffs hat pulling open the tall, barbed wire fence. He looked about the right age Carl should be and that hat... you had seen that hat sitting on the hook in the hallway at home every single afternoon.
"Is that..." you trailed off, not wanting to get your hopes up.
"Yeah. That's Carl." Rick answered, a bright smile spreading across his face as he parked the car.
You all climbed out the vehicle, stretching your legs and getting some much-needed fresh air. The others all greeted the grey-haired woman, but you barely noticed her, too focused on Carl who closed the gate, but the kid froze when he saw you.
"Y/N?"
That had you doing a double take because there was no way a five-month-old baby could remember you. Right?
"Wait, you remember me?"
"I remember the photos Dad used to show me when Mum wasn't home." Your little brother answered.
You looked back at Rick who was smiling more than you thought possible before you turned back to Carl just as the kid rushed forward and wrapped his arms around you.
The affection took you by surprise, not expecting it, but you were quick to hug him back.
"I'm sorry I left when you were a baby." You whispered, holding your brother tightly.
"It's okay. After Mum died, Dad told me what happened... told me why you left."
After Mum died? Lori was dead? Well, shit.
You weren't sure how you felt about that news, so you simply ignored it.
"I'm still sorry." You said and Carl pulled away, giving you a small smile.
"Who is he?" Ricky's voice suddenly asked timidly.
You turned away from Carl just as Merle lowered your eldest son to the ground and he walked over to you, half hiding behind your leg as he stared at Carl. Carl stared right back at him, surprise clear on his face.
"Ricky, this is... well, this is your Uncle Carl. And that guy..." you said, pointing to Rick. "Is your grandpa."
"Grandpa?" Dean repeated, the word foreign on his tongue.
Neither boys had ever met their grandparents. Not on your side of the family and definitely not on Daryl's. This was completely new for them.
Daryl smiled, taking Dean from Merle's arm before walking over to you and looking over at Rick who had a fond smile spreading across his face.
"Rick, come meet ya grandkids." Daryl said, nodding your father over. "This is Richard Daryl Dixon. He likes to be called Ricky though. And this little man is Merle Dean Dixon, but we call him Dean because God help us if there's two Merle's running around."
"Hey!" Merle exclaimed, but there was no heat behind his tone, and you knew he was smiling.
"Richard?" Rick repeated, his voice so small you nearly missed it.
"She wanted to name him after ya. But we did name a kid after Merle too, so it don't mean much."
"Screw you, brother." Merle muttered, but you could tell he was trying not to laugh as the rest of you all chuckled.
"I am so happy for you Daryl, and I can't wait to get to know you." The woman with short grey hair suddenly said, looking over at you with a gentle smile. "But can we talk about what happened at Woodbury?"
-
An hour later, you were all sitting in the makeshift kitchen area of the prison, Tyreese and Sasha cooking something that smelt like heaven for dinner after Rick, Daryl and Merle explained what happened In Woodbury.
Hershel sat beside you, cleaning and stitching the wound on your forehead while you watched Beth bottle feed your new little sister, Judith.
She was so tiny and so damn adorable you wanted to cry. Carl told you what happened when Judith was born and although you hated Lori, she didn't deserve that.
Carl was sharing his comic books with Ricky, the two of them sitting off to the side together while Rick had Dean in his lap, playing with his grandson.
"This will leave a scar, but I can see you are no strangers to scars." Hershel informed, glancing down at the burn scar on your arm and the tiny scar on your finger. "How'd you get those?"
"This long one was from when I was little. Tripped and fell into the fireplace, I think I cried for a month." You admitted with a soft chuckle. "And this..."
"That is from her being an idiot in the kitchen." Daryl muttered, sitting down beside you causing you to roll your eyes. "What? It's true. Ya cut a chunk of your finger off while cooking 'n had to get it sewn back on. She gonna be okay with this one?" Daryl asked, his voice turning serious as he looked up at the stitches.
"Just a few stitches. She'll be fine." The older man reassured whilst he worked.
Daryl rested his hand on your knee, and you placed your hand atop of his, squeezing it gently while you watched your father across the room with Dean happily.
"Dad! Dad! Look what Carl gave me." Ricky's voice suddenly shouted before he sprinted across the room, waving some superhero comic book frantically.
"Wow. That's awesome, buddy." Daryl said, smiling at his son fondly. "What do you say to Carl?"
Ricky turned back to the other boy, "thank you, Carl!"
"I got Volume Two when you finish that one." Carl replied causing Ricky to squeal in excitement.
"Dad, Dad, Dad, can you read it to me?"
Daryl chuckled, taking the comic book before he picked up Ricky and placed him in his lap.
"Merle! Get your ugly ass over here. We're gonna read... what are we gonna read, Ricky?"
"Spider-Man!" Ricky answered enthusiastically.
"Spider-Man, eh? Well, I'm more of a Yondu man myself, but I guess old Peter Parker ain't too bad." Merle muttered, standing up from his table across the room before joining you, Daryl and Hershel at the other table.
"Who's Yon-Yondu?" Ricky asked, looking up at his uncle in confusion.
"You don't know who Yondu is? He's only the greatest Guardian in the Galaxy! Next supply run, I'll keep an eye out for any of his comics."
You winced a little when Hershel finished the last stitch causing him to give you a sympathetic smile before he looked over his work and nodded in satisfaction.
Rick walked over to you with Dean on his hip as he looked at the patched up cut on your forehead with a worried expression.
"Do I want to know how this happened?"
"Probably not."
"She got thrown into a brick wall." Daryl muttered while Merle began reading the comic out loud for Ricky who was still in Daryl's lap.
"What?!"
You whacked your husband's shoulder softly, "thanks for that."
"Gotta keep me new father-in-law happy. Right, Rick?"
"Wait, does that make Daryl my brother-in-law?" Carl suddenly questioned.
"I mean, technically... yeah." You answered, not taking your eyes off your father who looked like he was contemplating his entire life choices at the moment causing you to chuckle softly.
"Is this, like, totally weird to anyone else or is it just me?" Glenn suddenly spoke up.
"Nah, it's definitely weird." Beth agreed, looking up from Judith in her arms before adding, "but in a good way."
Dean began to reach his hands out towards you from where Rick was still holding him before your father smiled, looking between the two of you.
"I think he wants his mother." Rick said, handing the boy over.
"Hi, sweetie." You greeted, placing him in your lap.
Dean tilted his head up, looking at you with his almond shaped hazel eyes that matched yours identically. You could get lost in the mixture of those beautiful greens and browns, like a forest.
You smiled at your son who giggled back at you before he looked over at Hershel who was standing beside you, packing away the first aid kit.
His little brows furrowed as he stared at the man, "are you... are you Santa?"
Daryl snorted from beside you, unable to stop himself. Rick covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh as well and you just bit your lip as you looked over at Hershel who had a surprised look on his face.
"It's the beard, Daddy." Maggie explained with a grin.
Hershel chuckled before leaning down towards Dean, "no. I'm not Santa. But, Santa is always watching, so make sure you're good for your parents, okay?"
"I am." Dean nodded proudly at himself.
"Yeah, you are baby." You agreed, kissing the top of his head before leaning your own head against Daryl's shoulder, watching him and Merle read the comic to Ricky.
"Not to dampen the mood or anything, but, uh... what are we gonna do about the Governor?" Sasha asked.
Rick looked over at you as you tilted your head up towards him, meeting your fathers gaze and holding it. He stared right back with a questioning look that was asking if you were ready for a fight.
You nodded before he glanced over at his grandkids before looking over at Carl and Judith too.
"If he comes knocking then we protect our people. We protect our home. By any means necessary, agreed?"
"Agreed." You all nodded.
"Fuck yeah, I agree!" Merle added, looking up from the comic book.
"Fuck yeah!" Ricky repeated happily, learning another bad word from his uncle once again.
The room went dead silent.
You could've heard a pin drop, it was that quiet as you all looked around at each other before everyone started laughing.
You wanted to yell at Merle for the language, but not tonight. You had found Daryl in the end of the world, your father is back after you thought he was dead and your kids were safe. That was all you cared about. That was all that mattered.
Words: 7,145
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader
Reader pronouns: she/her
Era: S10/S11, The Reapers
Warnings: language, sexuality, nothing else really in this one but get ready for the next one haha
A/N: All gifs made by me. :) This is Part 8 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List!
Summary: Alexandria tries to figure out how to survive. Daryl and Y/N explore their closeness and keep filling in the gaps of their lives. Daryl and DJ bond some more.
Previous Chapter - Part 7
“Except for losin’ you, it was the lowest I’ve ever been, I think… Every fuckin’ day I thought ‘bout givin’ up. Woulda been easier to,” Daryl drawled softly. You were tucked in against him with his arm around you, your hand resting on his bare chest, head on his shoulder, looking up through your lashes at him. His fingers were trailing over the bare skin on your shoulder and your upper arm. “When I was in there,” he paused, wondering if he should even tell you this, “I—I was hallucinatin’ at one point. I dunno if it was the lack of sleep, or dehydration, or hunger but—” He gulped. “I saw ya in there. In the cell with me—crystal clear as if I could reach out and touch you.”
You leaned up on your elbow, your eyes wide and sad and striking. “Daryl…” There were tears in them.
“I just remember askin’ ya where ya were… Screamin’ it. I just wanted to know where ya were…” he trailed off. A shadow fell over his face for a moment, before he grabbed your hand that was resting on his chest and held it gently in his, his thumb moving over the back of it. This grounded him in this moment instead of in the torture he was reliving as he told you. You were still looking at him sorrowfully. You could hardly believe what he’d been through. They’d fed him fucking dog food. He’d been beaten and starved… humiliated. You felt sick. You saw the muscle in his jaw tense as he clenched his teeth together. He finally looked over and caught your eyes again. “You’re the reason I didn’t give up. I just—I still believed ya were alive and out there… somewhere.”
You sighed, pain aching in your chest, that canyon created by your worry and sadness wedged between your eyebrows. You’d spent the last couple hours going through so much of it, just talking, but you knew there was far more. The thick scar on his leg, the “X” that looked like a brand burned into his back… more. A lot more. And that was just him. You hadn’t even talked about any of your darkest moments. You figured he’d read about them soon enough in your journal. “The next time I see Negan, I’m gonna punch him in the face.”
Daryl actually chuckled. “I’d like to see that actually. But if he talks to ya again, I’ll probably beat ya to it. He ain’t the same as he was but…” He shook his head.
Summary: Daryl and Victoria have worked through her mistakes made at the Sanctuary and have decided to keep the truth between themselves. But with the war between their communities and the Saviours brewing, their bond will be tested all over again. Lies, death and the threat of defeat are coming for Vickie… will she be strong enough to come through in one piece?
A/N: It's my birthday!!
Warnings: Angst. Explicit language.
Bamby
DPOV
I’d walked ahead, knowing Rosita would cover the back. We needed to make sure the coast was clear. Clear of walkers. Clear of Saviours. Clear of anything. There was so much that could go wrong out here.
Taking the lead was also just an excuse. It meant I could think without having to focus on the others too much.
Losing Carl was going to break a lot of our people. Especially after last night and how he’d sacrificed himself for us. How he’d put himself in the line of fire to distract Negan so we could all get to safety and create a diversion.
I felt like I was partly responsible. Not for his death, but for not doing more to make sure he was safe.
Maybe if I hadn’t gone off then Vickie could have been more aware of her brother than looking for me. She was always trying to make sure he was keeping out of trouble, but with me disappearing I could only imagine how worried she’d been. If I’d stayed, then maybe I would’ve noticed him going off. Maybe he could’ve talked to us, let us know about Saddiq. Maybe we could’ve been there to help fight the walkers.
There were so many maybes running through my head, I could barely focus on what was happening around me.
“Hey. Daryl.” Rosita grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop.
I turned around, noticing that the others were nowhere to be seen. Except for Dwight and Tara. She was a few feet from Rosita, watching expectantly. While Dwight stood off to the side, watching and waiting, holding his injured arm.
Frowning, I looked back down at Rosita. “Where are they?”
She gestured over her shoulder. “They needed rest. They're exhausted. They haven't slept.”
I could understand that. I might be full of energy from my head spinning, but the others weren’t used to being out here like this. Not like me. Even if they were used to being out here, it had been a big night and an even bigger lose, they needed a moment to recover.
“All right, 10 minutes.” I nodded. “Then we keep goin'. I'm gonna go back, cover our tracks.” Walking past her, I started back down the way we’d come.
“I'll go with you,” she offered, right behind me.
Before we got far, Tara spoke up, stopping us in our tracks.
“I have a question.” We turned to her before she gestured to Dwight. “Is there a reason why he's still breathing?”
“Fight ain't over.”
“It is for him,” she argued with me. “I'm done waiting.”
Looking over at Dwight, I knew it would be easy to deal with him here and now. But I also knew that he’d been valuable so far, and with everything a mess right now he could still be useful.
“Not now.” I shook my head. “Not yet.”
Rosita nodded. “He's right. Dwight could have an angle we don't know about. He could help. He wants to. Can't give that up yet. We just lost the kid. Let's just stop. At least until we get to the Hilltop.”
The look on Tara’s face made it clear that she didn’t agree, and that she wanted to take action now. I understood it, but I also knew that it wasn’t time. There was too much at stake to give up any tool we could use right now.
RPOV
“I shot above her head,” I assured Michonne as I drove down the road, heading away from the junk yard. “I just wanted her gone.” I glanced over at her, fidgeting my fingers on the steering wheel before I went on, “Look, I saw her. She made it. She ran into an empty alley just before I left.”
She did run in the direction of the ally, however I didn’t know if she had made it safely. There was no way to really know if she was going to make it.
“I didn't want her dead,” I added. “I just wanted her gone.”
“Feels like what Carl was talking about,” Michonne started. “What we should do when we have a choice.”
Her words stung. I didn’t want to think about what Carl had said, because to be honest… what he wanted from me was going to be hard. Especially now, with everything that we had going on. It meant going against every instinct in me.
But maybe he was right… and even if he wasn’t… I should still remember to honour him.
Pulling the car over, I found it hard to look her in the eyes. “Uh… um I need a se- I need a second.”
She put a reassuring hand on my knee. “It's fine.”
Nodding, I grabbed the letters from the glovebox and exited the car.
I walked over into the field I’d parked next to and began to flick through the letters. Crouching on the ground, I found Negan’s and opened it. The breath I took as my thoughts whirled was deep and shook, but I knew what had to be done.
Pulling the walkie from my belt, I spoke into it, “Get me Negan.”
“Who the hell is asking?”
I stood as I tried to control the rage that was burning inside me. “It's Rick Grimes.”
NPOV
With Lucille resting on my shoulder, I watched as Simon and the others drove back. They parked a few feet away from the entrance and got out as I began walking down the steps to meet them down there.
“Got it done?” I asked Simon as I approached him.
He nodded. “That and then some.” There was a pause as he noticed something was up. “You good?”
“Nothing on Gavin.”
There’d been nothing from anyone we’d sent to the Kingdom. It was radio silent, and it did not sit right with me. Rick and his people had shown they were capable of some crazy crap before, I was beginning to wonder if they’d pull off some miracle and managed to outsmart or out fight the people I’d sent their way.
“Want me to turn back around? Roll out?” Simon offered. “End the mystery?”
“I already sent a team out there.”
“Ah. Well, I'm sure he's A-okay,” he reassured me. “And if not, we'll just send another message.”
Ignoring him, I got back to him and his job. “So, tell me how it went.”
“Standard message and delivery. Showed 'em and told 'em. There was remorse.”
“Negan.”
I turned and watched as one of my other men, DJ, headed over to us with a walkie in hand. “Yeah. What is it?”
He handed the walkie over. “It's Rick.”
Now this was a surprise.
Taking the walkie from his grasp, I grinned as I started to speak. “Ricky. Look at you, callin' me up. You wanna tell me where you are so we can do this face-to-face?”
“Carl's dead.”
Everything in me froze. I grew cold as a pain began to knot in my throat.
Carl… I meant every word when I said he was a good kid. Everything I’ve ever said about him. He was one of a kind… he was supposed to outlast even the best of us. The was the best of us.
“He wrote letters. He wrote one to you,” Rick added. I took a seat on one of our concrete blockades as I listened. “He asked you to stop. He asked me to stop. He asked us for peace.” The tone of his voice turned venomous. “But it's too late for that. Even if we wanted a deal now, it doesn't matter. I'm gonna kill you.”
His threat fell on deaf ears. I didn’t care about the war, our hatred, or any vendetta right now. I cared about Carl.
“How did it happen?”
“What?”
“How did he die?” I asked. “Was it us? Was it the grenades? The fire?”
I knew that this fight, this war, was going to end in death and pain for a lot of people, but there were some I didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. To think Carl could’ve died because of me. Because of my men.
Then there was Victoria.
Fuck. I looked up at the sky and felt the knot in my throat tighten, threatening to choke me. She didn’t deserve this. She’d already been through so much, and I’d promised no one was going to hurt her again. If I was the reason her brother was dead, I’d never forgive myself.
“It wasn't you,” he spat. “Carl went out to help someone. And he got bit.”
“God damn it.” I shook my head. “Shit. I, um… I am sorry. You know, I wanted him to be part of things. I had plans. He… that kid… that kid was the future.”
“The only future is one where you're dead.”
What the fuck? I could not believe what I was hearing. “What the hell are you doing, Rick? Why are you fighting? Why are you making this so hard?” I pushed off the blockade as I began to pace. “Carl is dead because of you. Because you couldn't leave shit well enough alone. I mean, hell, maybe he woulda died some other way. Any one of us can get our ticket punched at any second. But in this case? In this case he is dead because of you.” I wanted to make sure I was making myself very clear. “Because you weren't there to stop him from doing something stupid. You set this course, Rick. Who's next? Victoria? You gonna get her killed, too?” It was my turn to spit my words.
To think he had no regard for his children’s lives. He’s already gotten one killed.
If he kept following this path and it led to her death, I’d burn Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom to the ground. I’d smother the ashes with my boots, and I’d crush the skulls of everyone on Rick’s side with Lucille.
“You keep my daughter’s name out of your mouth,” he growled. “Nothing’s gonna happen to her. The next person to die, I’m gonna make sure that person is you.”
“No. It’s not gonna be me, and it sure as shit isn’t gonna be Victoria. But it’s gonna be someone.” It was taking everything in me to keep my cool as I continued, “You see, I stop people from dying. I am the answer. Now, it may have taken a hard lesson for you to hear it, but you should hear it now. It's time. Do not let any more of your shit decisions cost you to lose anyone else you love. That garbage that sticks with you. Forever. Just like Carl will. Hell, I'm feeling it. And I'm gonna be feeling it for a while.”
I meant it. I meant every word. That kid was something else, something special. The Grimes kids were the kinds of people that shouldn’t just survive this world, but thrive in it. Those kids had already been through hell and back, and it had made them warriors.
Carl was supposed to do amazing things with his life. He was young, brave, resilient. He was going to build the future, and I’d been looking forward to watching him do it.
Taking a breath, I went on, “You could have just let me save all of you. I mean, that's why I killed your friends in the first place. So, you can sit there and you can say that you're gonna kill me, but you won't. You failed. You failed as a leader, and most of all, Rick, you failed as a father. Just give up. Give up, because you have already lost.”
VPOV
I had never felt anything like this before. I’d never felt both in pain and numb at the same time. My body ached with every step I took, my muscles begging me to curl up. To retreat from the world, and curl into the fetal position. My mind was screaming, both in need of water and in need of rest. It was begging me to make sense of what had happened. My lungs were clenching, refusing to take in air without a burning pain. They were tired of the strain caused by me being on the move, and they were tired of the shaking from my restrained and dying tears.
The tears had left tracks on my cheeks. I could feel them. I could imagine that they were clear against the coat of dirt on my skin. My mind struggled to shape the image, but it managed to come up with a picture of my cheeks and the tracks from my tears… and our group walking along the path. We’d made our own track in these woods, trying to find the safest way to the Hilltop.
As we’d walked through the woods, I had realised I had no idea where we were, or what we were doing. I wasn’t even sure who was with us. Who had made it out of Alexandria in one piece.
I hadn’t.
Losing Carl was like losing a slice of myself. Carl had been a source of strength and hope for me since the day he’d been born. The downfall of the world had just strengthened that bond more than I thought imaginable.
When I’d lost my family in the beginning, finding them again had been a Godsend. Spending that night curled up next to Carl in the tent, knowing I was safe, and he was safe… it was a relief I’d never felt before. I’d never thought I would feel anything close to that again.
After we’d lost Sophia and we’d been shot in our efforts to try and find her, I’d thought I would lose him then. My own injury had meant nothing in comparison to his safety and health. He was what mattered, nothing else. When he survived, I was relieved beyond belief.
Being separated from my family after the farm had fallen, I’d lost not only my loved ones but part of myself on the way. Months I’d spent losing memories, but the names of those who’d shaped who I was had always remained. Carl had been the one to pull me back, to remind me of myself.
So many times, I’d lost my brother, or almost lost my life. The fall of the prison, Grady Memorial Hospital, the warehouse where we lost Noah, when the Wolves attacked our home, meeting Negan, taking Daryl’s place at the Sanctuary. So many times we’d been broken, and yet each time we found each other.
Carl understood me like no one else. He understood the little girl in me that Daryl never could. He understood the woman in me that Mum never could. He understood the sister in me that Judith never would. He understood the child in me that Dad never could. Every ounce of who I was, before and now, was easily read by Carl… I would never have that relationship with anyone else.
“You ready to keep going?”
I looked up at Tobin as he looked down at me, my sister in his arms, Aly by his side, and Houdini on the other.
Our group had stopped to rest for the first time since we’d escaped the fires and chaos of Alexandria. Looking around now, I realised the others were all gathering themselves and their things to get ready and continue our journey.
With no words to speak, I lifted myself off the ground, forcing my body to work through the numb and the pain. As I started to put one foot in front of the other I made all thought of my loss push to the back of my mind until it was an endless echo.
The time for mourning would come, for now, it was time to keep going. To push forward. At this point… that was like going on autopilot. Pain was second nature to me. Easier than breathing.
NPOV
Sitting in the dim light the meeting room, I had my back to Eugene as he stood at the other end of the table. The sun was setting outside, leaving the room with a lighting that I knew would set the man on edge.
“I'm disappointed, Eugene,” I started. “This crap was supposed to be behind us. Two flushes and out the pipe. Top it all off, my only doctor and that creepy-ass priest somehow managed to jump ship without anybody knowing about it.” I took a breath and turned to face him. “You have any idea how something like that could happen, Eugene?”
He was practically shitting his pants. “No, I would not venture to guess.”
I wanted to believe him. Even though he was shitting himself, I wanted to believe him. The guy was scared of everything, but especially me. That would explain why he was shaking like a damn vibrator. But it also made me believe that he wouldn’t be so stupid and do something like letting two people escape.
Sucking my teeth, I decided I would trust him.
“Carson was never one of us. He was a weasel, just like his weasel brother. That's my best stab at it.”
“Drawing together associations and behaviours… that's a solid stab,” he agreed.
Eugene had been there when I’d dealt with the other Carson. He knew enough of the backstory to understand my distate for the brothers.
“Well, once their asses are caught and dragged back here. And they will be I'm gonna get the whole story out of 'em. One way or another, yes, I will.”
I was going to trust him… but I wasn’t fool enough to not double check his admission. If he truly wasn’t to blame here, then I would find out eventually.
“And Alexandria?” he asked. “What went down there?”
“Do you care?” I leaned forward in my chair, resting my arms on the table as I clasped my hands together. “Do you care, Eugene, after they tried to blow you off the face of this Earth?”
He hesitated, thinking his words over carefully before giving a short nod. “Your message is stamped ‘received’ and very much appreciated.”
“Oh, well, good.” I grinned. “You see, I got some news for you, Eugene. You are gonna be in charge of your very own outpost. You see, I need my bullet maker making bullets. Cutting a path through the dead took a toll on our reserves. So now you get the honours of providing me with the necessary bang-bang I'm gonna need to settle this whole situation with Rick for good.”
“And all that about people being resources and whatnot?”
Was he questioning me?
“Bullets are the last resort. I mean, hell, Lucille here.” I lifted her off the table and took a good look at the length of her. “She gets first dibs. But if Rick and his merry band of pricks decide to pull some shit, then we're gonna have to pull some right back that we'd rather not. That'll be on them. Not you. Not me. I'm gonna set you up at that machine shop that you told me about. You're gonna have a full security detail at your disposal. Everything that you need to keep your head in the game.” I leaned back in my chair. “Got Frankie there giving you massages. Tanya cooking. You know that gal was a chef?”
“I pictured her in social sciences. Management. Maybe running a drapes factory,” he mumbled. There was no keeping track of his mind’s coming and goings. But it was entertaining to listen to him… sometimes. “Will there be wine?”
Words: 7,588
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader
Reader pronouns: she/her
Era: S10/S11, The Reapers
Warnings: violence, gore, minor injuries, blood, sexuality
A/N: All gifs made by me. :) This is Part 7 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List!
Summary: The group scavenges for supplies at the base and Daryl and Y/N find themselves with another evening alone.
Previous Chapter - Part 6
It was in the early hours of the morning that you sat suddenly upright in the dark in a cold sweat, chest heaving, trying to get your bearings. After a moment they came back to you. It was still dark outside, but turning from inky black toward deep blue, hinting that the sun would be breaking over the horizon soon.
“Y/N?” Daryl’s voice came gently from his bedroll nearby. “S’goin’ on? Are ya alrigh’?” You heard the soft rustling of fabric and then a small lantern clicked on dimly beside him. You squinted a little in the sudden glow. Daryl was leaned up on his palm, peering at you with concern, his black poncho still partially draped over his shoulder.
You tried to pull in a steadying breath and pressed a hand to your chest. Your heart was still racing, thumping hard under your fingers. “I’m fine. It’s okay.” He looked skeptical and his eyes flickered over you.
“Yer shakin’,” he drawled, the shadow over his eyes deepening with his concern. “What is it?”
You let out a wry laugh and shook your head. “Nothing. It’s nothing… just—bad memories,” you said.
It struck Daryl at that moment that in the same way he’d been through so much trauma and horror since the last time you’d seen each other, you must have experienced just as much, perhaps more with having DJ to worry about and fear for. He wished that he’d already read your whole journal, absorbed it, knew it, so he’d know better what words to say to comfort you, what evils your mind was recalling, so he’d know your whole history, keep it close to his own, heal it as best he could. He could see beads of sweat near your hairline and the tremble in your fingertips as you pushed sweaty strands of your hair away from your face. “That ain’t nothin’,” he said softly. He considered you for a moment and then swallowed down his nervousness. He nudged his head up in a nod as if to beckon you over. “C’mon over here… if ya want to, I mean.”
Words: 7,335 (oooh a big one!)
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader
Reader pronouns: she/her
Era: S10/S11, The Reapers
Warnings: mostly FEELS
A/N: All gifs made by me. :) This is Part 6 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List!
Summary: Daryl takes DJ out for a bike ride and later he and Y/N head out to find desperately needed supplies for Alexandria.
Previous Chapter - Part 5
“Alrigh’,” Daryl said, pulling his crossbow from its place on his bike. “Yer up, boss,” he drawled with a smile. DJ was standing there with his recurve bow in hand looking eager. “Yer mom said ya know how to track and hunt. So, where are we headin’?”
“Really?”
“Mhm,” Daryl nodded. “’M followin’ you. Hopefully to some breakfast…”
DJ’s expression turned more serious and he glanced around and started to head into the trees, checking back over his shoulder as if to make sure Daryl was really coming with. They moved through the brush in silence for a few minutes, and Daryl watched curiously as DJ would pause here and there. Suddenly he turned back to look over his shoulder and there was a bright smile on his face. “Rabbit!” he whispered, pointing ahead.
Daryl leaned around him and could see a small game trail going through the brush and brambles. He gave DJ a nod as if to say “Go on” and he did.
Before long, the trail led into a small meadow, really hardly more than just an opening in the trees. The grass with thick and folded over on itself, blanketed with moisture still in the early morning.
The cottontail was sitting on the edge of the trees across the tufted hillocks of grass, chewing on a tuft of dandelion leaves. Daryl watched as DJ readied his bow and started to step silently toward the rabbit until he could get an angle when he could make the shot.
But he took one step too close and there was a flash of brown and a puff of fluffy white tail and the rabbit was gone in an instant. DJ’s shoulders sagged. He turned and looked back at Daryl, disappointment painted all over his face.
Words: 4,721
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader
Reader pronouns: she/her
Era: S10/S11, The Reapers
Warnings: references to past injury and trauma (nothing graphic), honestly this part is mostly FEELS
A/N: This is Part 5 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List
Summary: Daryl and Y/N finally have some time alone to start catching up on their time apart.
Part 4
Daryl was already on the couch when you came back in from getting DJ settled for the night. He looked up at the sound of your soft footsteps and your heart leapt. You sighed and sunk down on the other end of the couch, one of your legs pulled up and tucked beneath you, your body angled toward him.
“All good?” he drawled, and you nodded.
“Yeah. He’s stoked about the bed,” you laughed. You leaned your head on your hand, propped up on your elbow on the back of the couch. Daryl nodded and anxiously chewed on his bottom lip. “Here’s a question: what the hell were you thinking bringing up that squatter? Highly inappropriate for kids!” you laughed.
Daryl shot you an amused look. “Yer the one that actually did it. I wasn’t gonna tell ‘em the whole thing…”
Words: 4,942
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader
Reader pronouns: she/her
Era: S10, The Reapers
Warnings: language, violence, gore, angst
A/N: This is Part 4 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List
Summary: Daryl helps Y/N and DJ get settled in Alexandria.
Part 3
You walked beside Daryl, a teary smile on your face as you looked ahead at Judith and RJ running and playing with Dog. “It seems impossible that this little girl is the same chubby baby I fed pureed carrots to,” you laughed. “And RJ… They’re beautiful, Daryl.”
“Yeah. They are.” The softness on Daryl’s face was threatening to melt you into a puddle. His eyes turned to DJ next, and that softness remained.
You met his blue eyes again and your lips were drawn down in a soft pout. Tears brimmed in your eyes. “I’m so sorry,” you said. “About Rick. And now Michonne’s gone off… Maggie told me.”
“Yeah,” Daryl drawled, ducking his head and fighting the tidal wave of anxiety and grief and hopelessness that always crested in his chest when he thought of his lost brother. “‘M sorry too. Mostly for them,” he said, nudging his head toward the kids again. “But it’s been hard on everybody…”
“Including you, I’m sure.” Tears burned in your eyes again and you did your best to blink them away. Rick and Michonne were family, and you had hoped to reunite with them again too as soon as you’d found Maggie. The news about much of your old family had been hard to take, especially after losing everyone else at your community so recently. But you knew how deep and unhealing that wound must be for Daryl, losing a true brother…
Daryl hummed a response but you let the topic drop for now.
Alexandria was certainly left worse for wear since the Whisperers had briefly occupied it with their horde. Daryl cast a sideways glance at you as if worried about your reaction to the destruction and mess you were now walking through.
Words: 4,690
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader
Reader pronouns: she/her
Era: S10, The Reapers
Warnings: language, violence, gore, angst
A/N: This is Part 3 of a commissioned miniseries! Thank you to @ankhmutes for their generous support!
Summary: Daryl and Y/N have more time to talk and the group heads back home.
Your name: submit What is this?
Part 2
The sun wasn’t yet breaking over the horizon when Daryl awoke, though a pink glow was beginning in the distance. He was a little stiff from laying on his thin bedroll, but surprised to find he had managed to get a good amount of sleep. He felt far more at peace than he could remember in a very long time even though his mind was still whirring with unanswered questions. He glanced back and could barely make out the prone shapes of you and DJ in the darkness of the shipping container. He got up as silently as he could and stepped out into the twilight. Kelly was on watch and Daryl climbed up to stand beside her on another steel container.
“Hey,” he greeted her, speaking it and signing with his right hand. “Did you get some sleep?”
“A little,” she said, nodding, turning her eyes back out to the night. “I took over watch so Elijah could get some.”
Daryl nodded and gazed out over the stillness, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. Kelly tapped his arm lightly with hers.
“Soooo… Y/N?” she asked, spelling your name.
Daryl ducked his head, but his lips curved in a small smile.
Words: 5,451
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader
Reader pronouns: she/her
Era: S10, The Reapers
Warnings: language, violence, gore, angst
A/N: This is Part 2 of a commissioned miniseries! Thank you to @ankhmutes for their generous support!
Summary: Maggie has some news for Daryl, and in the morning they go in search of the rest of her people.
Your name: submit What is this?
Part 1
He watched thoughtfully as Maggie finished wrapping the fabric around the gash on her arm. She looked up at him and there was a teary smile on her face. “Ya better sit down, Daryl.”
His stomach twisted. “…Why?”
“‘Cause I got somethin’ to tell ya.”
Daryl gulped and shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the next. “Alrigh’…” He drifted farther inside, Maggie’s eyes on him the whole way, and he sank down next to her on the floor.
She hesitated a moment, gathering herself, again pressing a hand over the scrap of black fabric she’d wrapped around her arm. “I’m not really sure how to tell ya this, so I better just start.”
“Okay…” His brow furrowed and plunged his blue eyes into deeper shadow.
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