Pairings: glenn rhee × teen!reader
Warnings for this series: child abuse, mentions of sa, gore, death, and other twd warnings. Alot of angst and fluff
Mexican afab agender reader with they/them pronouns
Mini series masterlist | Master List
This takes place in season 1-2
A/N: The reader has been alone with their mom and dog since the start. They've been taught to survive out in the woods and survive in general by their mom and grandpa. They saw glenn last and assumed he was dead, the readers dogs name is milo and he's a retired military dog the reader adopted. Glenn and the reader were co-workers before the world went to shit.
A/n: also if you can't read Spanish, dw i will have translations below each paragraph with something in Spanish. The long wait is over, im finally getting part two done and i am so sorry for the people waiting for part two.
Y/n and their mother head back to the attic to gather supplies for Milo. Y/n climbs up first and helps Catalina up after her.
“What should we take?” Y/n asks, looking around at the cluttered attic full of old supplies. Catalina inhales sharply.
“Everything,” she says decisively.
Y/n nods and whistles for Milo to follow. “Over here, boy. Wait for us,” Y/n commands, pointing to a corner.
Milo obeys, sitting down quietly, his eyes trained on the two of them as they gather food and water, packing it into large crates. It takes some time, but they manage to fill several crates with supplies for the journey.
Catalina hands the crates to Y/n, who carefully lowers them down to the first floor, where they stack them by the door. The two work quickly, knowing they need to move fast.
Milo hops down from the attic, padding over to Y/n and Catalina. He starts sniffing the air and growls lowly, his body tense. Y/n snaps their head toward him.
“What is it, boy?” they ask.
Milo paws at the floor and looks toward the window, still growling quietly.
Y/n and Catalina move to the window to see what’s got Milo worked up. In the distance, more zombies emerge from the woods, stumbling toward the house, but not yet too close.
Milo watches them carefully. He’s a smart dog, and he can sense danger long before it reaches them.
Y/n’s stomach churns with dread. “We’re gonna have to move fast. Grab anything else useful,” they say, turning to Catalina.
Catalina nods in agreement. “I’ll pack the truck. You grab anything else we might need.”
Y/n nods and the two of them move quickly, working together to load the truck. Milo jumps into the backseat with Catalina, who takes the driver’s seat. Y/n loads gasoline into the backseat, placing it safely to avoid spillage.
Y/n throws a tarp over the back, tying it down tightly. The zombies, still walking slowly, give them just enough time to get everything in place.
With the last crate loaded, Catalina starts the engine, and they drive off toward Y/n’s grandfather’s house, about 30 minutes away, closer to the city. The drive is tense, and Y/n feels the weight of the world pressing down on them.
Catalina fiddles with the radio, searching for any signals of other survivors. The static fills the car, and Milo stares out the window, alert and watchful, sensing the danger ahead.
Y/n glances at their mother, who seems lost in thought. She hasn’t looked at them since they left their home. Y/n exhales sharply, trying to ease the tightness in their chest.
“Están bien?” Y/n asks quietly, worried about their mother.
Catalina’s fingers freeze on the radio dial, and she finally turns to look at Y/n, her face weary. “Sí,” she replies, yawning.
Y/n watches her, then offers, “Do you want me to drive?” They say it softly but firmly.
Catalina sighs, clearly exhausted, and with a short nod, she parks the truck.
They quickly swap seats. Y/n takes the wheel while Catalina stretches out in the passenger seat, Milo curled up in Y/n’s lap. The road is quiet, the night creeping in as the sun sets.
Twenty minutes into the drive, Y/n suddenly spots a figure standing in the middle of the road. Their heart skips a beat, and they slam on the brakes. The truck skids, and with a sickening thud, they hit the man.
Catalina jerks awake with a startled jolt, snapping her head toward Y/n with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. But when she sees the look on Y/n’s face—shocked and terrified—she doesn’t scold them. Instead, she just stares at the man lying in the road.
Without a word, Y/n throws open the door and rushes outside. Catalina follows, confused and worried. “Y/n! What are you—”
Y/n crouches down next to the unconscious man, panic written all over their face. “I—I panicked. He was just there, out in the open…” they stammer, trying to explain themselves.
Catalina steps closer, her eyes scanning the man. He has a goatee and is wearing decent clothes, with a bat lying not far from him, its tip stained with blood.
Y/n pulls up his shirt to check for injuries. There’s a deep bruise on his side that looks infected, possibly from rust. The guilt rushes in, tightening Y/n’s chest.
They pull his shirt down, looking at Catalina. “Mom, help me! Open the door—help me carry him!” Y/n’s voice shakes with urgency.
Catalina rushes to the truck, opens the backseat door, and hurries to Y/n’s side. Together, they lift the man, one of them grabbing his torso, the other his legs. They grunt as they drag him over to the truck, and Y/n whistles for Milo.
“Move to the front,” Y/n tells him, and Milo jumps over to the passenger seat, watching them carefully.
The man is heavy, and the two of them struggle to push him into the backseat. Catalina shoots Y/n an annoyed look as they finally manage to close the door.
“I’ll drive,” Catalina says curtly, her tone making Y/n feel guilty.
Y/n slides into the passenger seat with Milo on their lap. “Sorry,” they murmur to Milo, scratching behind his ears as Catalina starts the truck again and pulls onto the road.
For the next ten minutes, the drive continues in silence. Y/n watches their mother’s stiff back, feeling the tension in the air.
Eventually, Y/n dozes off, exhausted from the chaos. When they wake, it’s to Milo licking their face. Their eyes blink open, and they see Catalina parking the truck at the gate to their grandfather’s property. She quickly hops out, unlocking it, then rushes back to the truck. She drives it inside and locks the gate behind them.
Catalina turns off the engine and looks over at Y/n, who is now fully awake. “Sígueme y cúbreme la espalda,” she says, handing Y/n a weapon as she exits the truck.
"Follow me and cover my back"
Y/n nods, taking the weapon and following Catalina as they head toward the house. Milo stays in the truck, keeping an eye on the unconscious man.
As they approach the porch, Catalina takes note of the boarded-up windows. “Las ventanas están tapiadas. Creo que es una buena señal”, She whispers, half to herself.
"The windows are boarded up. I think it's a good sign."
Y/n nods, though their heart is still heavy with worry. Catalina knocks at the door in a specific pattern—one only her father would know. They wait, holding their breath.
At first, there’s silence, and Y/n feels their hope begin to falter. “Mamá, no creo—” they start, but Catalina cuts them off sharply.
“¡Cállate la boca, están bien! Tener algo de esperanza,” she snaps, her voice hard with emotion.
"Shut your mouth, they're fine! Have some hope"
Before Y/n can respond, they hear footsteps behind the door. A voice calls out, “Catalina, ¿eres tú?”
A wave of relief washes over Y/n, and they glance at their mother, who gives them a brief ‘I told you so’ look.
“Sí, soy yo, Charles. ¿Puedes dejarnos entrar?” Catalina responds, her voice cracking with emotion.
"Yes, it's me, Charles. Can you let us in?"
There’s a long pause, then the sound of the door unlocking.
Charles, Catalina’s brother, flings the door open. The moment he sees Y/n, he pulls them into a tight hug. “You guys are okay!” he says, his voice thick with relief.
Catalina laughs softly, wiping away a tear, then clears her throat. “¿Y tu hermana favorita?” she teases, and Charles laughs, pulling her into a hug too.
"And your favorite sister?"
“Come inside!” he says, tugging them both toward the warmth of the house.
Y/n smiled, but the warmth quickly faded as a harsh reality settled back in. The man. They’d forgotten in the chaos, but now, as their heart pounded in their chest, they remembered.
"Oh, wait, Mom," Y/n's voice faltered slightly, urgency creeping into their words. "We should bring him inside, help him."
Catalina, still tense from the journey, glanced at Y/n with a furrowed brow, but there was no question in their voice—this was a life they couldn’t leave behind. They hurried back to the truck, opening the door with trembling hands and carefully lifting the unconscious man. Charles was at their side, helping them move him inside, but his confused expression never left his face. Milo padded alongside, his eyes sharp and wary, sensing the weight of the moment.
The front door clicked shut behind them, the sound too final, too loud. Charles locked it with a heavy sigh, looking back at the two as they laid the man on the couch.
"What happened to him?" Charles asked quietly, his voice tinged with concern, but Catalina was already moving to gather the med kit, her focus absolute.
Y/n hesitated, swallowing down the knot in their throat. "I… I hit him when I was driving here," they said, each word feeling like a stone. "I thought he was already dead, but… he wasn’t."
Charles winced, his face softening with understanding. "It wasn’t your fault, Y/n. Accidents happen."
Catalina returned with the med kit, her movements sharp, efficient. "Why don’t you go upstairs with Charles?" she suggested, her voice strangely distant. "Maybe he’ll show you if Grandpa’s okay."
Charles took Y/n’s hand, his grip warm and grounding. Without a word, he led them up the stairs, each step heavy with the uncertainty of what they might find. The door to the bedroom creaked open, revealing the man who had been the foundation of their family—sleeping, peaceful, unaware of the horrors the world had become.
Charles looked at Y/n with a small, bittersweet smile. "He said he was just going to take a ‘small nap,’" he whispered, unable to hide his amusement at his father’s antics. He nudged Y/n gently. "Go wake him."
Y/n stood frozen for a moment, unsure, their heart hammering in their chest as they approached the sleeping figure. They hesitated, unsure if they were ready for this. They reached out and nudged him gently, their touch barely a whisper against his weathered skin.
In the quiet, the man groaned softly in his sleep, grumbling words they couldn’t quite understand. "Charles, me dejó dormir..." the man groaned, his voice thick with sleep.
Y/n smiled softly, the sound of their laughter, weak but genuine, filling the air. "I’m not Charles," they teased, the simple act of humor a small comfort in a world that had stolen so much from them.
But as Y/n’s voice reached him, his eyes shot open, wide with shock, as though he had been holding his breath, waiting for a sign of life.
"¡Mierda! ¿Eres tú, Y/n?" His voice cracked with emotion as he stared, disbelief turning into a rush of relief. His hands reached out, pulling Y/n into a fierce hug, holding them as if afraid they might disappear.
"Shit! Is that you, Y/n?"
"Cariño," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion, "estoy tan feliz de que estés bien, gracias a Dios." His lips pressed against their cheek, his tears wetting their skin as he kissed their forehead. In that moment, nothing else mattered—only the warmth of their embrace, the love that still flickered despite everything.
"I'm so happy you're okay, thank God."
Quickly, he stood, his movements hurried but unsteady with age. "¿Y tu mamá?" he asked, his voice thick with worry. Y/n and Charles exchanged a glance before leading him downstairs, where Catalina was finishing tending to the man’s wound.
As soon as Catalina saw her father, the dam of her emotions broke. "Papá," she gasped, her voice trembling as she rushed toward him like a child who had been lost for years. Y/n and Charles stepped back, their hearts full as they watched the two, so different yet so alike, reunited.
"Me alegro de que estés bien," Catalina whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek as she held him tight.
For the rest of the day, time seemed to stand still. The family gathered together, talking, laughing, and playing board games, their conversations filled with the warmth of a time long past. It was as if the world outside no longer existed—only this moment, this fragile glimpse of what life used to be.
But even in the safety of her family's presence, Y/n couldn’t silence the thoughts running through her mind. Amidst the laughter, the comfort of home, there was a nagging ache in her chest—a hole that hadn't been filled. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Glenn. Her brother. The one who had always been by her side, the one she had laughed with, cried with, and shared everything with before the world came crashing down. She hadn’t heard from him in months, but she hadn’t given up hope. She refused to.
The image of his face, of his warm smile, still lingered in her mind like a ghost. Y/n told herself she would find him, no matter the cost. The thought of him out there alone, in this broken world, was unbearable.
When morning arrived, Y/n woke slowly, the blanket tangled around them like a cocoon. They stretched, yawning, but then froze as a voice broke the stillness.
Y/n jumped, their heart racing as they snapped their gaze toward the sound. The man—the one they had hit, the one who was now a part of their world—was awake, sitting up, his expression groggy but still holding a trace of warmth.
"Morning… uh, how are you feeling?" Y/n asked, their voice small, unsure.
The man chuckled softly, rubbing his head. "dizzy, to be honest," he admitted, the lightness in his tone at odds with the grimness of the world. He gave a small, teasing smile. "But hey, it’s not as bad as being run over."
Y/n bit their lip, their guilt still weighing heavily on their chest. "I’m sorry," they whispered, their voice barely audible.
The man’s smile softened, understanding. "It was an accident, kid," he said gently. "You don’t gotta apologize. I should’ve moved out of the way."
Y/n nodded but didn’t speak. They got up to grab the med kit, still feeling the weight of the moment pressing on them. Before they could leave, the man’s hand caught their wrist, holding them just for a moment longer.
"What’s yer name?" he asked, his voice low but genuine.
Y/n looked at him, hesitant at first, then nodded. "Y/n. And you?"
The man grinned. "Negan. Nice to meet you, sweet pea."
The words, simple as they were, made Y/n feel something stir deep inside—a reminder that, even in this shattered world, humanity could still exist.
As Y/n grabbed the supplies and returned to clean his wound, They couldn’t shake the thought of the life they had left behind—the people, the moments, the world that had once felt so full of possibilities. And yet, every step forward was shadowed by the constant weight of uncertainty. The future seemed an endless stretch of danger, where survival was no longer a choice but a desperate act. There were times, especially in the silence of the night, when Y/n wondered if they had already lost too much, if there was even a future left worth fighting for.
But then, in the quiet, in the small, fleeting moments of stillness between the chaos, something stirred inside Y/n—hope. It was fragile, like a candle flickering in a storm, but it was there. And for the first time in a long while, Y/n let it bloom, just a little. The world was broken, yes, but that didn’t mean it was over. They had family. They had Milo, and Catalina, and the people they were fighting to protect. For them, Y/n would keep moving forward, keep fighting.
The ache of loss still clung to them like a shadow, an ever-present reminder of the brother they had been torn away from. Where was he? Was he alive? Y/n couldn’t bear to let go of the thought that Glenn was out there—somewhere, somehow—and that if they kept going, if they didn’t give up, they could find him. The world was falling apart, but that small piece of hope inside them refused to die. Even though there was that little voice of doubt, whispering, What if he’s gone? What if it’s too late? Y/n shoved it down, smothered it with the strength that was born from love, from the raw, burning desire to see their brother again.
The world may have been broken, but I’m not broken yet.Y/n’s resolve had never been stronger. The world around them might crumble, the people they loved might keep falling, but one thing was clear—they weren’t giving up. Glenn was out there, alive or not, and Y/n would find him. And if there was any chance of survival left, any light in this endless darkness, they would fight for it. For themselves. For their family. And for Glenn, who was the last piece of the life Y/n had left to hold on to.
A/n: thank you sm for the support on this series along my other one for beth greene! I will now get to work on that as i hope you enjoyed this! I am so sorry for the very long wait, life has kept me busy
Taglist: @carabalism @inejghafasknife @bath1lda @average-weezer-bro
