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Daryl x reader i beg! tbh anything! But have a fic idea which is based around season 7/8 reader is pregnant and was having false contractions when they were on there way to hilltop, negan stops em and the line up happens over the next few months reader struggles with the missing beds the stress and the lack of food. Maybe she even steaks some from the stash and Rick tells her off but Daryl snaps getting all protective calling out the fact that Rick would rather be all teachers pet than the fact that reader is struggling badly with these stupid and cruel rules.

The Walking Dead || Daryl Dixon.

────୨ৎ Pairing; Daryl Dixon x Pregnant!reader | no mention of reader name.

Setting; Season seven and eight, Negan era. Alexandria and Hilltop.

Warnings; Pregnancy and complications, fighting for your life, mentions of violence and weapons, lack of food and supplies.

Please like, comment, reblog and share with friends!! Every interaction is appreciated. I will NOT tolerate hate or bad words. Anything in that nature will be deleted.

You are responsible for the media you consume.

────୨ৎ Author’s note; I love this idea!!! This writing style is slightly different to what I usually write and it feels out of my comfort zone, so I hope I’ve nailed the vision I was going for.

Word count; 2.8k

PREGNANCY HAD NEVER BEEN PART OF THE PLAN, RAISING A KID AND PLAYING HAPPY FAMILIES.-It was hard enough in the old world, let alone the one left in ashes. And yet, here i was, five months along with a belly stretched tight like a chipmunk hoarding for winter.

A constant reminder that life stubbornly refused to stop. Because somehow, even now, hope had a way of slipping through the hard cracks.

The first few months had been surprisingly calm. Slowly coming to terms with the idea of being a mother, imagining a little version of me and Daryl running around the ruined world, sneaking through abandoned stores, getting into trouble or simply just surviving.

Nothing last forever though, right?

A recent alliance with another community had brought some rare comforts..extra food, weapons, even medical supplies. So when they offered me a baby scan, I hesitated, suspicion prickling at the back of my neck like a rash in heat. Everything had been going too smoothly and in a world this broken, that usually meant trouble. Humanity had been having babies long before scans, midwives and medical tests.

Why should I need one now?

Perhaps it was just nerves. But after a long, quiet talk with Daryl, his insistence pressing me more gently than words, I finally agreed.

That's when we met him.

The cramps started at the second interception, a roadblock with a sickening inevitability. A tree sprawled across the asphalt like a corpse frozen mid fall. "We don't have time to move it," Rick barked, his eyes darting along the treeline, urgency cutting through the tense silence as we huddled at the front of the RV. "They could be anywhere behind us..we have no idea how many..-" then they stepped out from the shadows like vultures circling fresh meat, emerging from the treeline like predators.

Guns glinted..AKs and pistols, knives flashed in the weak moonlight, each one held with lethal intent. They were playing with us, savouring the fear. Ricks hands tightened on the wheel. "Hold on!" He slammed the RV into reverse, the engine growling as the vehicle shuddered violently, rocking like a wind chime caught in a hurricane. Then he slammed it forward, tires screaming against the cracked gravel.

But as we pressed forward, the road ahead was a wall of metal and headlights, trucks front and back, we were trapped. "The trees," Maggie whispered, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the tension. Everyone froze, staring at her like she'd gone nuts. "We run through the woods."

"That's crazy," I grunted, doubling over as fire lanced through my lower belly, every muscle clenched, every nerve alight. "You're insane." Maggie's eyes snapped, fire in her own "either we move, or we wait for them to come knocking. And what choice is that?".

"I didn't want that damn scan anyways." I hissed through the pain, teeth gritted. "And Daryl, I can't leave without him." Ricks hands tightened on the wheel. His voice dangerously calm and steady. "It's the only shot we've got. Odds are, they've got Daryl and the others cornered too. If we want to survive, we run. Now."

That's what we did, we ran. Through every back bending ache, every knee buckling ripple, my body screamed at me, betraying every step. My breath was ragged and shallow, a desperate wheeze between gnawing pain. The contractions hitting harder than a heavyweight on round three. The world around me felt like it was spinning, my vision blurring but I couldn't stop.

Not now.

Not while the deadheads were still stumbling towards us, hungry and relentless, or while shadows lurked within the trees. Branches whipped across my face, tearing at my skin, but I barely felt it, every step was a struggle, like the earth itself was trying to swallow me whole, pulling at my feet, trying to drag me down. I stumbled through the foliage, everything and everyone closing in behind us, and the only thing keeping me moving was the thought of Daryl and our baby.

The line up came next, the cold, unforgiving moment that would tear our world apart. The brutal goodbye to some of our men. We were forced to kneel, like dogs at the feet of a king. Staring up at Negan, our fate hanging in the air like a guillotine waiting to fall. The scent of leather and sweat filled my nose, as I came face to face with him and his impossibly wide, teeth too white against the grime grin.

Then there was Lucille, his damn bat. It's jagged spikes a cruel reminder that none of us were safe. I swallowed hard, trying to not gag at the sharp stenches that curled into my nose, my senses screaming at me to run, but there was nowhere to go.

Negan's eyes slid over me, taking in every detail, sizing me up for something he didn't even have to ask for. His grin stretched wider as his gaze shifted, first to my face, then to my breasts and finally, to the baby I had growing inside me. "I've been dying to know," he said, his voice too casual, too eager. He leaned in just a little, his words a sickening whisper. "So tell me..who's the daddy?".

I stared up at him, the weight of his snide remarks pressing against me. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but that never stopped him. His eyes flicked over the group, landing on Abraham who had been kneeling, stone faced along with Daryl and a few others. "No..no," Negan said, shaking his head with that sickening grin of his. "You'd snap her like a glow stick." Laughter erupted from his side, the sound so hollow and mocking it almost made the trees themselves shudder.

Then, just like that, a sharpe pop of a gunshot pierced the air, the sound making me flinch hard enough to send a dull ache shooting through my body. I hit the ground, all fours bracing my fall as a deadhead dropped to the left of me, its lifeless stare burning into the dirt.

From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Daryl standing, boots scraping the stones beneath him as he moved towards me, probably to pull me up, to offer me something, anything to keep me together. But Lucille was there, shoved right into his face, her barbed wire shining in the weak light, stopping him dead in his tracks. He didn't even make it an inch before the bat was pressing into his skin, the weight of it holding him hostage in place.

"One more step," Negan's voice purred, a dangerous calm cutting through the tense silence. "Wait..are you? You and her..?" His eyes flickered between Daryl and me, waiting for a reaction, a crack in the facade. I could feel the heat of his gaze, the way it bore down on us, trying to peel us open, searching for a weakness. Negan's grin widened, cruel amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned in a little closer. "Careful," he warned, his tone soft, almost playful. "Another wrong move, and that baby will grow up without a daddy."

Daryl's jaw tightened, his fists clenched and that was enough for him. Rules were put into place after that night, 50% shares in food, supplies and resources. With a warning that any betrayal of the rules would result in brutal punishment.

Hilltop had became our home by default, really. It offered the medical care Alexandria couldn't. But even that wasn't enough to make it feel like a safe haven. "I don't know how much longer I can do this, Daryl." My voice cracked as I let the words spill out. I sat against the wall, hugging my knees as much as my bump would allow. My back ached from the cold floor, the thin comforter barely offered any warmth, no protection from the biting chill. A week after the lineup, when we'd barely had time to breathe, Negan's right hand man came in and took damn near everything we had left.

Every mattress, every pillow, the little bit of comfort we'd clung to was ripped away in one cold, calculated sweep.

Daryl was at my side in an instant, crouching down to meet my eyes, his face tight with concern. "I'll sort it." He promised, but the words felt empty, like a quiet vow that didn't erase the fear in my chest. I didn't know what he meant by that, or what it might cost.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. My mind raced, running through every possible scenario, every trouble Daryl might get into for my sake. My heart kept pounding, I couldn't help but worry about what the hell would happen to him if things went south.

As the night settled in, and I took my last look at the community, I couldn't help but feel the weight of it all. The old caravan flickered to life as Daryl had rigged up every solar powered light he could scrounge together, casting long shadows in the dimming dusk. I gripped the railing tight, the rusted metal cool against my skin, pulling myself up the steps like I was dragging the whole damn world behind me.

With a sign, I shoved the door open, stepping inside. The silence hitting me like a punch to the gut. I walked straight to the counter, resting my palms on it, bracing myself for what would likely be another restless, haunted sleep.

The weight of what we'd lost, the world before it all, pressed down on me. I could almost feel the ghosts of better days creeping up my throat, threatening to choke me with the grief of it all. Just as the sting of tears started to burn at the corners of my eyes, a low, gravelly cough broke the silence, cutting through the air behind me like a blade.

I wiped the tears before they could fall and forced myself to face him. "Daryl..I didn't-" my words caught in my throat, a small gasp escaping as my eyes fell on what he'd done.

The room was simple, almost startling in its tenderness. A mattress lay on the floor, piled high with pillows and furs he'd made himself, scavenged from his hunting trips. Candles flickered around the edges, throwing shadows over the array of foods he'd gathered. Thick slices of bread, berries, tines of soups, the type of things that had taken effort, time and thought.

"So this is where you've been all day," I said, stepping closer, letting my hands grip the worn leather of his vest, pulling him gently towards me. He scratched the back of his neck, looking almost shy "I ain't never done somethin' like this 'fore."

"It's perfect, Daryl." I leaned in, our lips brushing softly, tentatively but electric. He stepped back, his hand drifting from the small of my back, and gave a low, almost serious nod. "Sit," he said "I uh, got somethin' for the bean."

"The bean?" I raised an eyebrows, a laugh escaping me at the nickname he'd chosen as I slowly sank onto the mattress. "Yeah..the ass kicker," he said, smirking. His fingers dug through the worn bag he carried on supply runs, the one that smelled faintly like leather and the road.

He pulled something out of a thin, crumpled plastic bag, it looked like he'd tried to wrap it and then said, fuck it. I swallowed the berry I'd been nibbling, licking the juice off my thumb and forefinger "what is it?".

"S'nothin'," he replied, shrugging, trying to sound casual. But as I unfolded it, my fingers brushing the thick, soft wool, the shape began to take form. My breath caught. "You found this?" I held up the tiny blue cardigan, glancing back and forth between it and him. "Carol. I uh, I asked 'er," he mumbled, eyes dropping, his voice rough around the edges with something almost like pride.

I set the cardigan down, my hand reaching for his as he stood before me. His fingers twitched under mine, stiff at first, then slowly curling around them. "Daryl..i-" he blinked awkwardly, not used to hearing kind words. "Don't go gettin' soft on me, alright?" I smiled, leaning closer to his hand "too late."

"Come, sit." I patted an open spot on the mattress where I'd shifted the furs. But before he could kick off his boots, a knock came at the door. Just one familiar, controlled knock that belonged to Rick Grimes. "Just a courtesy call," he said, barging in before anyone could answer, boots scraping against the floor. "Figured I'd check in before headin' back to Alexandria."

But the moment his eyes took in the scene, the mattress, the furs, the candles and spread of food, his words trailed off. Rick froze, mouth half open, a rare pause in the relentless commander's rhythm. "Daryl, a word." Rick's voice sliced through the quiet like a crow landing on a grave.

Daryl stood beside me, his shoulders coiling, his eyes dark and wary. "Daryl..?" I whispered, my stomach twisting, as Rick stepped back towards the garden, each movement deliberate, cautious like a man walking on a blade. "..eat. Yer need it." His words sounded easy, almost gentle but there was steel behind them.

The door clicked shut with a finality that made the walls feel closer and the shadows longer. Living in a caravan had some perks though, mostly because you could hear everything happening outside. Every word, every hiss of anger and every snap of frustration, it all carried through the thin walls.

"Do you have any idea what kind of trouble we..no, YOU could be in if Negan finds out about this?" Rick's voice cracked with anger, each word sharp and pointed. Daryl chuckled, a low, rough sound. "What? You gone snitch on me, Rick?"

"Hell naw," Daryl spat some more, not giving Rick a chance to reply. "I didn't say shit when you were sneakin' extra food for Carl back at the prison."

"That was different." He wiped the sweat off his forehead, his fingers brushing against the grime of his face, unaware of anyone catching him out of line.

"Oh yeah, how?"

“Carl needed it,” he muttered, trying to stand firm.

Daryl scoffed, the sound rough in his throat "Needed it? The hell he did." He waved his hand dismissively, the motion sharp. "My wife’s pregnant, my kid’s in there. You think she don't need the food? What about Lori, huh? When she was pregnant, did she get the same pass?"

Rick’s jaw clenched, his hand tightening into fists, but he held back, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare.” Daryl shot him a mocking look, lips twisting with sarcasm. "Double standards.”

"Listen, Daryl. You know what he's capable of. He doesn't just kill, he makes examples. You think we can survive if he decides to make one?" Daryl shrugged, leaning back against the wall of the caravan, his smirk fading into something sharper. "Look, I ain't stupid. I know what happens if we cross him. You think I don't know the risks too?".

Ricks voice dropped lower, heavy with warning. "This is about thinking, you don't get to choose when Negan decides you've gone too far. One wrong move, one slip and.." his jaw clenched. "We're all dead. Maybe worse."

Daryl let out a dry laugh, eyes glinting "yeah, well you don't exactly strike me as a guy who backs down from trouble, neither. Maybe that's why we're still breathin'."

"This isn't a game, Daryl. You mess with Negan, you mess with all of them, all of us. Every single one."

A heavy silence fell, broken only by the distant hum of the undead outside. "I'm not gonna rat you out, alright? you know that.” Ricks voice was low, rough around the edges. He tapped his finger against the side of the caravan, the metal ringing softly. “Just..just be careful, be smart about this. You don’t want to mess things up now, not with her and not with the kid.”

Silence lingered after that and for a long time I thought they had both vanished. I pressed my ear to the wall, straining, but there was nothing, just the faint movements of the outside world. Then Daryl’s footsteps returned, soft but deliberate. He froze in the doorway when he saw me, no longer on the mattress but curled up on the couch.

I could feel the worry in my eyes as I rose and moved towards him. His hand brushed against the swell of my cheek, gentle and grounding. “S'ok, get some sleep,” he said, reassuringly. I wandered back to the mattress, cleaning the remnants of food and blowing out the candles. Daryl slipped off his boots, undressed and laid down with care, his right arm outstretched, inviting me in.

“Tomorrow’ll be a better day, promise.” He pressed a soft kiss to my head as I nestled into his side, my bump resting against his stomach. His hand traced slow, circular motions over it. “Ain’t nothing happen to your daddy, bean.” The whisper was so soft, I almost didn’t catch it, but the warmth behind it filled the space between us.

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Next short - Yer my problem (Daryl x reader)

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(Context is "horror theatre"*, btw.)

*not Hilltop. Solo show. But Hilltop starts TOMORROW and I hope everyone breaks many limbs. 🥰

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