redneckstrash

[redneckstrash]

me looking at my imaginary audience as i click on a fic about the same ship in a slightly different situation for the millionth time

[redneckstrash]

he's so cute when he's goofy

[redneckstrash]

Yes, your honor.

I like my men tall, broody, and bloody.

[redneckstrash]

There is no way people don’t write new smut stories with Niall when he’s looking like a fucking god.

[redneckstrash]

The Promise of Us: Chapter 1

(I promise I really did try to stop myself from posting this and have patience but I just couldn't do it!!!)

You and the group, exhausted and starving, search for safety in the ruins of a broken world and find potential refuge in an overrun prison. Amid the constant danger, your bond with Daryl grows, though you remain haunted by the trauma of the last night on the farm.

You

You remember again what true hunger feels like after all this time—the gnawing, aching, painful twisting in your gut that threatens to distract you.

The third house of the day looms before you, a crumbling relic of a life long lost to the apocalypse. You tighten your grip on the knife, holding it up by your ear, moving silently as you creep through the back door. The mudroom greets you with the scent of mildew and decay, and the cracked tiles beneath your feet crunch softly, though the noise feels deafening in your heightened state. Snarling comes from somewhere deeper inside the house, faint but unmistakable. You can tell it isn’t the kind of sound that means the walkers have noticed anyone. It’s that idle, low growl they emit as they wait, like predators with no purpose other than to react when prey comes near.

Your heart rate quickens, but you stay calm, methodical. You’ve done this enough times to know better than to let panic creep in. Months of jumping from house to house, exhaustion clouding every move, not sure what lies around every corner. You learn to push down the fear after a while. It never fully leaves you, but it’s manageable now. 

From another part of the house, you hear bodies thump heavily to the ground—silent but unmistakable. The thud is followed by a brief pause, then nothing. 

Moving into the kitchen, you carefully step over the broken dishes, upturned chairs, and scattered garbage littering the floor. The mess seems like a reminder of how quickly life had fallen apart. People left in a hurry, abandoning everything in a desperate attempt to survive. You glance at the countertop where a calendar still hangs, frozen in time on a date that no longer matters.

The kitchen is eerily quiet, with only the occasional creak of the decaying house keeping you company. Taking a breath, you cross the room, your eyes trained on the door ahead. With your knife raised, you brace yourself and throw open the door, immediately jumping back, ready for whatever horror might come charging through.

Instead, your breath catches when a pair of familiar blue eyes meet yours, an arrow aimed directly at you. For a second, you freeze, heart leaping into your throat.

Daryl lowers his crossbow just as quickly, his lips curling into a faint, teasing smile. Scoffing, you follow him as he turns to go down the hallway. You stay close behind, eyes fixed on the back of his head, watching the way he moves with quiet precision, his crossbow back up at the ready. Always careful. Always ready.

As he leans into the doorway of what looks like a bedroom, you catch a glimpse of something unusual. A large bird—a magnificent owl—perches in the window, its enormous yellow eyes staring back at you, wings slowly spreading wide in an attempt to intimidate.

Without hesitation, Daryl raises his crossbow again and shoots the bird, the arrow landing squarely in its chest. It slumps forward, dead before it even knew what hit it.

“A meal is a meal,” Daryl says, already yanking the arrow free and pulling feathers from the owl’s body in preparation.

“Hear me complainin’?” you quip back, though the idea of eating owl doesn’t sit well in your stomach. At this point, though, you’re beyond picky. Anything that fills the gnawing void in your gut will do.

As Daryl works, the sound of a can opener interrupts the silence. You glance over to see Carl, looking young and exhausted, fiddling with the opener on a can of dog food. The others sit around him, watching him mess with it, looks of hollow resignation on their faces. Before he can get it open, Rick strides over, his jaw tight with frustration, and snatches the can from Carl’s hands, tossing it aside without a word. There's a strange tension in the air, the kind that always lingers after too many days without food, without safety.

The group’s exhaustion weighs heavily on you, making everything feel slower, more oppressive. You look around at the forlorn faces of those around you. Lori sits with her hand resting on her stomach, her head tilted back in momentary reprieve. Hershel sits nearby with Beth and Maggie at his side, while Glenn sits with his eyes cast down, his hand wrapped around Maggie’s. T-Dog stands at the window, his eyes scanning the outside world with quiet vigilance. As you glance at him, your gaze shifts past his head, and that’s when you see them—walkers, moving with their lazy, inevitable purpose, shambling closer to the house. T-Dog catches sight of them too. He turns back to the group, his voice low as he makes a quiet “psst,” a signal that instantly grabs everyone’s attention.

In a heartbeat, the atmosphere shifts. Instinct takes over. The exhaustion that had weighed on everyone moments ago disappears, replaced by the sharp edge of survival. Everyone moves quickly, grabbing what they can, the unspoken understanding that you need to leave—now.

Outside, the vehicles wait like lifelines, ready to go. You swing your leg over the back of Daryl’s bike, the familiar rumble of the engine vibrating through you as he revs it up. The wind whips through your hair as he takes off, his back solid in front of you, but there’s no time to relax. Not now. Not with so many so close. A few miles down the road, when everyone seems sure nothing is around, the vehicles stop and people clamber out. Carl immediately goes on watch towards the back, Beth taking to your right, Carol off to the front left. 

Once everyone’s on their feet again, you find yourself standing by Rick and the others, a map splayed across the hood of the Hyundai. The sunlight beats down on you, hot and relentless, as Maggie, Glenn, and T-Dog huddle around the car.

“We got no place left to go,” T-Dog says grimly, eyes scanning the map with no real hope.

Maggie is the next to speak up, her voice tight with worry. “When the herd meets up with this one, we’ll be cut off… We’ll never make it out.”

Daryl’s voice cuts through the tension, practical as ever, looking to Glenn, “What’d ya say, about 150 head?”

Glenn squints in the sun as he looks over, trying to calculate. “That was last week… could be twice that by now.”

The words hang heavy in the air as the group exchanges uneasy glances.

There’s more conversation around the map, tension rising with every passing second. Hershel points to a spot where a river cuts through the terrain. “This could delay the walkers some,” he says, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “Might buy us a little time.”

You shift your weight, leaning against the hot metal of the car as sweat trickles down your spine, soaking into your shirt. The end of summer has brought an unbearable heat in the day and cold nights, and the relentless sun beats down on all of you now. It makes everything harder—thinking, moving, even breathing. The heat feels like it’s closing in, amplifying the suffocating sense of being trapped, surrounded on all sides by herds of the dead.

Your eyes drop to the map, though the lines and roads are starting to blur. It feels like you’ve been running in circles, from one house to the next, never finding enough supplies, never feeling safe for more than a few hours. Every turn feels like it just leads you back to the same dead end—hunger, danger, exhaustion.

As a plan starts to come together, people split up and take a moment to relax by the cars, getting their things in order. 

“Hey,” Daryl growls, his voice breaking through the fog of your thoughts. He’s looking straight at you and Rick, the two of you still hovering in front of the car. “While the others wash their panties, let’s go out and hunt.”

Rick and you meet eyes then, and you nod along, your stomach giving a sharp reminder of how little your lunch had done to fill the void. 

“That owl didn’t exactly hit the spot,” you mutter, heading for the trunk of the car where your rifle rests. Your fingers close around the cold metal, and you feel a strange sense of relief. At least with a weapon in hand, things feel a little more certain, even if it’s just an illusion.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・

The train tracks are rusted and overgrown, tangled with weeds and vines from months of neglect. Each step you take along the old rails echoes softly in the still air, the sound barely noticeable over the distant rustle of the wind through the trees. The three of you walk in silence, your eyes constantly scanning the woods, ever-alert for movement—whether it’s game or danger.

The forest feels endless around you, dense and shadowed, the overgrowth reclaiming what was once human space. There’s a quiet tension in the air, the kind that never really leaves anymore, always lingering at the edge of every moment. Your fingers brush against the cool metal of your rifle, ready for anything.

Then, the trees break suddenly, the thick wall of branches and leaves giving way to an open clearing. The sight ahead stops you in your tracks.

A large, imposing structure sits just beyond the clearing—an old prison. Its tall fences and watchtowers rise like dark silhouettes against the sky, but what immediately catches your attention is the movement inside. Walkers. Dozens, maybe more, stagger and shuffle aimlessly within the prison yard, their moans faint but distinct, even from this distance. The chain-link fences seem to hold them in, for now, but the sight is enough to make your skin crawl.

“That’s a shame,” Daryl grunts, squinting as he assesses the situation, his eyes scanning the yard filled with the dead. He tightens his grip on his crossbow, frustration clear in his voice. 

You nod silently in agreement, the potential of a fortified structure like that being overshadowed by the sheer number of walkers roaming the inside. The idea of clearing it out seems impossible.

But Rick remains silent. His gaze is fixed on the prison, his jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimmer in his eyes—a twinkle of something…hope, maybe. Or determination. It’s the look he gets when he’s already starting to formulate a plan, even if the odds seem stacked against him.

You exchange a glance with Daryl, sensing that Rick might see something more than just a lost cause in the wreckage ahead.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・

You press your weight against the fence, the chain link rattling under the force as you shove your knife through an opening, right into the skull of a walker. Its snarl cuts off abruptly as it slumps to the ground, but you barely register it. You’re already moving again, feet pounding against the ground as you run through the middle walkway between yard and forest. Daryl stays up front, his torn leather vest flapping in the wind, the angel wings on his back catching the light.

“It’s perfect,” Rick whispers, his eyes scanning the prison yard as you all pause, “If we shut that gate, stop any more from coming in, we can clear the yard.” His voice holds a quiet certainty.

“I’ll go,” Glenn offers, stepping forward, but Maggie immediately shoots him a glare, shutting him down. Glenn stands his ground, though. “I’m the fastest. I can do it.”

Rick’s eyes shift to Maggie, Beth, and Glenn. “No, you, Maggie, and Beth, draw as many as you can over there.” He points toward the far side of the fence around the corner, “Pop ‘em through the fence.”

“Daryl, head back to the other tower,” Rick continues, calling out names and assigning positions, while you stand quietly, waiting for your role. Steady adrenaline keeps you going, buzzing with something inside you. There’s no space for fear, excitement, or even hesitation. This is just survival.

Daryl catches your eye, his gaze quick and searching. It’s a silent check-in, a wordless connection. You give him a short nod, enough for him. Then, he’s off, running toward his position.

One by one, everyone scatters, moving to their designated spots—ready to lure, shoot, and take down walkers. You watch them go, your focus sharp, every movement rehearsed in your head. The gate is key. If it stays open, there’s no winning this fight.

Rick looks around, watching them all head off, and then his eyes land on you. His lips quirk up in the corners, eyes almost apologetic.

You breathe out a chuckle, half rolling your eyes at him, “I’ll run for the gate,” you moan sarcastically, realizing your fate.

“I’m right behind ya,” he chuckles, standing by the fence. It’s such a strange thing– seeing him smile now. Like all his prayers are being answered today.

You hear the others calling for walkers, the sounds of knives piercing skulls and bodies hitting the ground inside the fence. Lori stands by the gate, her face tense as she takes a deep breath, looking at both of you for a moment, then pulls it open just wide enough to let you and Rick through.

You move quickly, quietly, gun raised, knife ready in your other hand. The air is thick with tension, but your movements are automatic now—practiced, efficient. You let your gun fall to swing around your torso by the strap to slash your knife through walker’s heads, a few finding you and Rick more interesting than those along the chain link fencing. Gunshots ring out nearby, and you see bodies falling, but you don’t let it break your stride. Rick is right beside you, both of you sprinting for the main gate. You hear a snarl coming up behind you, but when you turn to take it down, it’s already falling to the earth with an arrow in its head. You look up across the yard and see Daryl in the guard tower, his eyes on you. You throw him a quick nod again, thanks , and take off.

When you reach the inner fence, you quickly tie a cord to secure the entrance, your fingers working fast as Rick kicks down a walker that got too close. Without missing a beat, he pulls you toward the center guard tower, and you follow him up the narrow stairs, your breath steady despite the chaos below.

At the top, you finally pause, glancing down at the sea of walkers in blue jumpsuits. Their lifeless movements seem almost surreal from this vantage point. When you look over at Rick, you notice something that catches you off guard—a smile. A genuine, wide smile spreads across his face, a rare sight these days. He lets out a short, breathless laugh, almost disbelieving, and before you know it, the two of you start shooting down the walkers below, one after another.

One by one, they hit the ground. The smiles on everyone’s faces are priceless. For the first time in months–months, you hear laughter. A small part of you recognizes this rare moment of relief too, letting your tense shoulders fall in celebration. Daryl is waiting for you when you reach the bottom, moving toward you with a quiet kind of confidence. Without saying a word, he hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you close so that your head fits into the crook of his elbow. He kisses the top of your head, a gesture that feels grounding, steady. 

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・

Later that night, everyone is gathered around the firepit, the orange glow flickering against tired faces, and you and Daryl are stationed on watch atop a truck that was flipped onto its side to block the gated entrance out of the field. Your legs dangle down by one of the tires, your rifle resting across your lap. You sit quietly, feeling the weight of the night but enjoying the quiet– just the rhythm of breathing and waiting. Daryl’s footsteps sound behind you, pacing back and forth along the metal of the truck, eyes sweeping the area, always alert.

You watch Rick make his rounds, occasionally catching sight of him when he passes through the inner fence. It’s almost mechanical now, his path well-worn as he loops around again and again. He’s passed three times already. For a moment, the space feels surreal—so much room to breathe, and yet the tension still lingers just beneath the surface.

A hand appears beside you, and you glance down to see Carol’s face, her eyes alight with a small smile. Daryl must have noticed her at the same time, because he leans down and helps her up onto the side of the truck with a grunt of effort. 

“It’s not much,” she says, handing you and Daryl a few scraps of meat, “but if I don’t bring you anything, you won’t eat at all.”

You give her a quiet nod of thanks, accepting your share. The meat is dry, but it’s something.

“I guess little Shane over there’s got quite the appetite,” Daryl grumbles between bites, nodding toward the group around the fire. You immediately avert your eyes, your fingers tightening slightly around your lap. You try to drown out the conversation, forcing yourself to focus on anything else—the distant crackle of the fire, the rustling of the trees outside the fence—anything to stop the memories from creeping in.

You can hear the teasing tone in Carol’s voice, “Don’t be mean,” but as she continues, she gets quieter–serious, “Rick’s gotten us a lot farther than I ever thought he would. I’ll give ‘em that.”

Daryl grunts in agreement, chewing on his food.

“Shane could never do that,” she adds quietly, her tone shifting.

The name catches you off guard again, and your stomach twists, though you try to push the feeling away. You gulp down what’s left of your food and squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to stifle the wave of nausea creeping in.

“What’s wrong?” Daryl asks, his voice low, though Carol doesn’t seem to notice the look on your face as she rubs her neck. But he’s not talking to you, he’s looking at her. You manage to open your eyes after the wave of uneasiness passes, and look up at them.

“The rifle,” Carol mutters, her hand gripping the side of her neck, “The kickback—guess I’m just not used to it.”

Daryl finishes licking the last of the juice from his fingers, then invites her over with a simple wave. He puts down his crossbow and begins kneading her shoulder, working out the tension in her muscles. You sit there, watching, feeling almost like you’re observing from the outside. His hands move with practiced ease, and Carol smiles back at him, teasing warmth in her eyes.

She turns her head, grinning. “Wow, Daryl, that was pretty romantic,” she says with a mischievous twinkle, “you hitting on me now? One girl not enough for ya?”

“Pffft…” Daryl rolls his eyes, clearly ignoring her, though a flicker of a grin crosses his face. He’s about to dismount the truck when he adds, “I’ll go down first.”

Carol, with a playful smirk, looks to you and winks, “Even better!”

A twinge of humor finally breaks through, and you can’t help the laughter that escapes you as you chuckle with her. Daryl’s face flushes brick red as he helps Carol down from the side of the truck, his hands gripping her sides briefly before letting go the moment her feet hit the ground. She heads off towards the group around the fire, leaving the two of you.

You go to get down yourself, but he stands in front of you, his arms up, waiting. “I got it,” you say, waving him off.

“I know,” his voice quiet, but his fingers twitch to beckon you down. You give him a small smile, and allow him to take you in his arms as you make your way down to the ground. His hands remain on your sides even when your feet find the grass below, and you find yourself holding onto his elbows for support, both of you lingering in that space.

There’s an unspoken moment between you, the air thick with something unsaid. You hang there, waiting for what he might say next, aware of the quiet tension settling in his features.

“You know,” he begins, his worried expression breaking into a small smile playing on his lips, teasing, “I’m still all yours,” 

“Good to know,” you murmur back, not really sure what else to say, but your lips twitch up playfully at his flirting. The way he’s looking at you makes it a little easier to be present, even if just for a moment.

Daryl’s lips quirk into a grin, satisfied with your reaction, even if it’s brief. He shifts, moving to walk along the side of the truck next to you, the two of you side by side now.

“Can’t have anyone thinkin’ I’m strayin’,” he teases lightly, his tone playful but gentle, almost like he’s testing the waters.

You glance at him again, another small laugh slipping out, even if you don’t fully feel it. It’s enough to lighten the mood, and for now, that’s enough. He takes your hand, his rough calluses a comfort you’d come to love scraping your skin. He tugs you forward, towards the group. Where you could hear Beth singing.

But since it has so ought to be 

By a time to rise and a time to fall 

Come fill to me the parting glass 

Good night and joy be with you all 

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・

Daryl

She hadn’t smiled in months. 

Not a real smile, anyway. Sure, he’d gotten some laughs out of her, but they weren’t the kind that came from within– a true, belly laugh. It was more like a quick puff of air, almost like a scoff, like the sound escaped before she could even stop it. But those smiles, the ones that used to light up her whole face– Gone. He missed that. He missed the way her eyes used to shine when they’d tease each other, trading jabs and grins like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Now, her smiles never touched her eyes. They were always distant now, like her mind was a million miles away. And damn if that didn’t tear him up inside.

It had been months since they’d felt any real safety, and maybe that was part of it. Being on the run, never knowing if you’d have a place to sleep or if walkers would come through at night—it wore on everyone. Constantly watching your back could drain a person’s spirit, and he figured maybe that had something to do with the change in her. But deep down, he knew better. This wasn’t just about the lack of safety. This was about that night on the farm. What Shane had done. What she had to do. Daryl hadn’t been there in time to stop it, and even though she survived, something in her had changed.

Daryl wasn’t good with words. Never had been. And when it came to asking her what was really going on, he figured he didn’t even have a clue where to start. He didn’t want to push her—didn’t know if he should. But every time he caught her staring off into the distance, or going through the motions like she was just surviving, it hit him like a gut punch. Something was broken inside her, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

So, he did what he always did—he stayed. Quiet, steady. Right by her side. If there was one thing he was good at, it was being there. Being solid when everything else fell apart. He didn’t need to know the right words, not really. Words had never mattered much between the two of them anyway.

He wasn’t gonna give up on her. Not now. Not ever.

But damn, he missed that twinkle in her eyes. Missed the way she used to jab him in the ribs with her elbow, flashing him that teasing smile that made everything feel lighter. He wondered if that part of her was ever coming back, or if the world had taken it from her for good.

He glances over at her now, sitting a few feet away, the firelight dancing along her features, fingers idly tracing the edge of her gun. She looks lost in thought, far away from him, from the fire, from the group. He isn’t sure how to reach her, but hell, he was gonna keep trying, even if it meant standing next to her in silence for the rest of his damn life.

[redneckstrash]

Hello :)

Thank you guys so much for the love lately, it means so much to me! Requests are open!

Masterlist

Everything is also on Ao3

Longer Works

✦ complete ✧ in progress

✦ The Ruins of Us: Daryl has always been your lifeline, your escape from a broken home and a rough childhood on the wrong side of Atlanta, Georgia. No matter how hard things got, you had him, and he had you—until Officer Shane Walsh came along and turned your world upside down. As your bond with Daryl starts to unravel, so does the world around you. Now, in the midst of a post-apocalyptic nightmare, survival means more than just facing walkers. It’s about trying to mend your broken connection with Daryl while battling Shane’s increasingly aggressive behavior, which looms darker with each passing day. Set during Seasons 1 & 2 of TWD. Important note: For this story's purpose, Daryl is in his 20s.

✧ The Promise of Us: After the farm’s devastating fall, you’re forced to confront not only the dangers of the open landscape but the emotional weight that presses down on you every day. The distraction of survival left little room to process the pain and guilt that now linger beneath the surface. When the group discovers the prison, the urgency to survive finally eases, and the flood of emotions you’ve buried starts to rise. With the adrenaline gone, you’re left to face your grief, guilt, and shifting dynamics within the group. Relationships are tested in the wake of loss, and your inner struggle feels heavier than ever. Yet, through it all, there’s one bond you can always rely on: Daryl. Steady, unwavering, and your constant in a world of uncertainty, he might be the only thing keeping you grounded as you fight through the fog of grief and find your way back to yourself. Set in season 3 of TWD

One Shots

✭ smut

Red Dress ���

Sucker

The One on the Bike✭

Picture You✭

Worship✭

Asphyxiation ✭

Requested One Shots

Double Lines

Live-In Bodyguard

house keeping:

I tend to post / reblog explicit writings, so please do not follow or interact if you are a minor. You will be blocked.

Just a quick heads-up: if you see me interacting from my main blog, @plzlou it’s because this is a side blog! There are some features that side blogs don’t have, so I’ll need to switch to my main account for certain actions

[redneckstrash]

Working Title: Chapter 1

I haven't decided on a name for this yet, but I'm really excited to finally turn thoughts to words on this idea I've had. Set in Season 1 of TWD.

Relationship: Daryl & Reader

Themes: angsty, childhood friends, etc etc etc. Going between present & past

Notes: More to come :) Would love to hear any feedback. Feeling imposter syndrome with getting back into writing again!

Your stomach growls and you feel like your intestines are being squeezed by a phantom hand in your gut. You’ve gotten used to the sound by now, and it does nothing to distract you from the snare you’re putting together. Soon . God, when was the last time you thought about anything other than food? Or water? At least you learned how to somewhat fend for yourself in the wilderness growing up. Not that you had the same supplies you’d typically have for camping like this. If only you’d thought to grab actual necessities when you left your dorm room the day the world ended. But no, you didn’t think you’d be in the middle of the Georgia heat, deep in the woods, surviving off canned stolen food from houses and the rodents you could catch in tiny snares. You thought maybe by now you’d find a group. But your family was gone by now, probably dead knowing your drunk mother. You hadn’t seen anyone that day, just bolted with a backpack into the woods when you were caught in the never ending traffic on interstate 85. You tried to go home, you really did. To see if anyone was still there that needed you. To make sure your friends were alive. But the bombing in the city and the dead crawling the streets made you have to make a very quick decision that day. So here you are. In the woods. Alone. Stomach growling and tying a snare for what you hope will be a nice rabbit for dinner.

A snap of a twig nearby makes your head jerk up and out of your mindless thoughts. You’re under just enough cover to be hidden by the figure lurking through the woods quietly. But you sigh in relief as its hooves come into sight and you see it's just a deer. As much as it’s a relief to see an animal, you can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance that you wish you could at least hunt the damn thing. The only weapon you have is the stupid kitchen knife you stole from the house you raided a few days ago. You’d finished off the can of corn kernels immediately and out of excitement slashed your hand on the lid when trying to pry it open. Just the reminder makes your hand hurt and you look down at the nastily bandaged thing. You had used your own shirt to wrap it and god knows how long it’s been since that was cleaned. Looking back up at the deer peacefully grazing, your stomach churns. Not sure if it’s from the gruesome look of your hand or out of pure hunger. What you wouldn’t do for a good ol’ gun at the moment. But you also know a gun wouldn’t do you any good when you were alone in the woods. The dead could be anywhere, and even though the sound would bounce off the canyons surrounding the valley you traveled up into, anything close by would know where it came from. You continue tying the snare in your hands, cursing under your breath when the shoelace you have breaks apart in your hands. But then you and the deer snap your heads up suddenly at the sound of snarling coming from your left. You see the dead corpse making its way lazily into the clearing, tripping over its own feet. You glance between the it and the deer, wondering why the deer hasn’t made any move to leave. 

Go , you urge in your head, go before it’s too late.

The deer is frozen in place, ears pinned forward, tail still as it stares down the corpse coming in closer. 

Come on , you urge louder inwardly, balling your fists up. You’re still well hidden in the brush for the dead guy to see you and you feel for this poor deer. But if you were to get up and scare the deer into running, you’d be seen by the corpse. If you went after the corpse, your potential meal would leave. Not that you even have the confidence you’d ever catch the thing let alone be able to kill it. 

The dead guy is a foot from the deer and your mind is made up in an instant. You stand suddenly, raising your knife and making the lunge for the biting dead thing. As you shove yourself towards it however, something comes flying through the air, grazing your cheek. You fall to the side, and the deer makes a break for it. The biter (yes, you've just now decided on this nickname for it) is on the ground, motionless with an arrow in the side of its head.

“Dammit!” Comes a gruff voice in the woods. You turn and heave yourself onto your palms as you sit back on the grass, holding your knees up to protect yourself while on the ground. You’re working on getting yourself up when a man comes out of the brush with a crossbow in hand. 

“I’ve been trackin’ that damn deer fer miles,” he snaps, “what’ja do that for?” he swings his arms in annoyance, including the one with a loaded crossbow. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest and feels like it’s in your throat after the adrenaline rush you just had. He grabs the arrow that’s sticking out of the biter’s head and puts it back in his bow. You hold your breath. You recognize the light brown hair and his gravely, angry voice. You just can’t be sure, you don’t want to get your hopes up. For now, you’re quiet, waiting for his next move. While knowing damn well he’s going to point that crossbow at you next.

Sure enough, when he’s satisfied his arrows are back in place, he turns abruptly on you with it held up at you. You manage a gasp when you get a flash of his face before the crossbow is shielding the rest. He hesitates, and lowers the crossbow from its aim on you. 

Daryl Dixon is staring you down in the clearing.

“What the–” he starts, and you’re lost for words yourself.

“I–I” you stutter, your breath finally coming back to you in gulps. Daryl stomps over and reaches his arm out, grabbing under your upper arm to hoist you up. He releases you once you’re on your feet and backs up a few steps.

“Y/N” he whispers. 

x flashback x

“Daryl, what the hell!” you exclaim, but your voice is high and you're laughing as he pulls up to your house. He’s got a shit eating grin on his face, in a junked up old truck, hanging his arm out of the driver’s side door. 

“C’mon” he waves, “Merle’s finally out of the house and we can go out to the lake” he reaches behind him “and I’ve got the goods” he shakes a bottle of vodka out the window to show you. 

You’re running up to the old dingy thing, hands in the passenger seat window that’s rolled down.

“Where the hell did you get this?” You ask, looking up at the torn fabric of the roof of the truck. The inside is dirty with stains and littered cigarette butts on the floor. But Daryl is still grinning like an idiot at you.

“Merle left it at the house after he took it from some guy yesterday. Get in!” he reaches over, opening the passenger door for you. 

Without asking anything else, you jump in and slam the door behind you. Daryl immediately puts the car in reverse and is swinging it out onto the streets of Atlanta. 

It’s only a few minutes drive to the lake from your place and Daryl pulls the truck up to a dirt patch. You hop out, smiling with the handle of Titos in your hand. Daryl grabs his cigarettes and lighter and follows you out. Coming to the edge of the water, you take a swig straight from the bottle and hand it over to him. When he grabs it with one hand, you move your hands to the hem of your shirt and pull it up. Next is your worn jean shorts. You glance at him, and his eyes are on you as he purses his lips on the bottle. You retreat to the water in your underwear and bra, eager to finally cool off from the summer heat. You just barely get a glimpse of Daryl shaking his head while he strips down to his boxers and follows you in. 

After a few hours of messing around in the water and smoking cigarettes, the vodka bottle is about half empty. You and Daryl are on your backs, using the discarded clothing as pillows under your heads to look up at the trees and sky. 

“Got any summer internships lined up?” you ask him, your arm laying across your forehead to shade your eyes as you take in the glimmering sun between the leaves above.

“Pfft” he quietly scoffs, “yeah, right. Merle’d never let me hear the end of that one”

You glance over at him, taking in his profile as he stares up at the sky too. His eyes were narrowed, brows furrowed together. He had started keeping the facial hair that was beginning to look less like peach fuzz and into a real mustache and goatee. It’s crazy that you’d known him and his older brother since you were just kids, and that you’ve watched each other grow up into…adults? You were both just barely 18 now.

“We should jus’ get outta here,” he says quietly after a while, taking another drag from his cigarette. He then looks over to you, and you’ve turned on your side to look at him fully. 

“Where would we go?” You smirk at him, leaning your head in your hand and your elbow on your make shift pillow.

“I’m serious,” he puts his head back down and waves you off, “Let’s go to California, or New York. I’m sick of this place,” 

“But wouldn’t you miss dear old bro?” You tease him, flipping to your stomach. Your arms are touching now and he looks at you and rolls his eyes.

“Merle’d barely know I was gone”

“Now we both know that’s not true. That man would hunt you down to the ends of the earth if you up and left. You know that.” You poke him, and he flicks you back in the arm.

“Ow!” You feign hurt, grasping your upper arm and glaring at him.

“You’re dumb” he grumbles, still eyeing you. 

“But you love me” you tease, smirking. He glances at you again and something flickers in his eyes that you’re not sure you’re ready to figure out.

You’re still touching arms. The silence is heavy between the two of you as you stare at each for a long moment. Your smirk begins to fade and you’re admiring the deep blue of his eyes, when your phone buzzes next to you. When you reach for it, you see 10 missed calls from your boyfriend. 

“Ah, shit” you mutter, and Daryl gets a look at the screen.

“Jesus, Y/N, what does the prick want now?” 

“I gotta go” you scramble up and throw your clothes back on, marching toward the truck.

x flash forward x

“I left GSU when everything went to shit and I’ve been out here for weeks” you reply to Daryl, brushing off your jeans and stealing glances at him, “What about you? How’d you end up out here alone?” 

“I ain’t alone” he grumbles, adjusting the rope of squirrels he’s carrying over his shoulder. 

You look up at him, meeting his eyes, “...Merle?” 

He nods, and you sigh in relief. Merle was an asshole, yes. A stupid asshole, actually. But you knew how much he meant to Daryl. And you grew up with him too. So he kind of was your older brother at this point almost as much as Daryl was.

“Where are you guys camped out?” you ask, looking around.

“M’camp is a few miles walk,” he says, not meeting your eyes.

He’s so quiet, only saying what is necessary to answer questions. It’s odd–you and Daryl have always been at ease with each other. You hadn’t seen him since you went to college-- even though you were nearby, but you didn’t think anything had changed. 

“Do you…” you’re trying to read his anguished expression, “Can I come with you? What’s up?”

He lets out a sigh, shaking his head, “Yeah, yeah, ‘course you can. C’mon” he turns and walks away, kicking the biter as he passes. It's a long, quiet walk with Daryl. You’re trailing behind him in silence, but your head is buzzing with questions. Where was he when everything went bad? Was Merle with him the whole time? How long has he been out here? Where are his mom and pop? You shut your eyes tight at the thought and pray they aren’t at this camp too. Daryl’s dad was an angry man who took it out on both his boys, and even sometimes you. His mom was as bad as yours was when it came to the booze.

Daryl stops abruptly in front of you, causing you to slam into his back. The squirrels he’s carrying brush against your arm, making you convulse backwards in disgust. He glances back at you over his tattered sleeveless shoulder. The same deer from the clearing is about 20 feet in front of both of you. He lifts his crossbow up slowly, not making a noise. You slowly reach into your back pocket for your kitchen knife. Daryl glances back at you and nods, but a small smile plays on his lips when he eyes your weapon of choice. 

“Was the only thing I could grab,” you breathe out in a whisper, and he shakes his head, still smiling. He slowly makes his way forward, with the stealth of the tracker he is. He had tried to teach you–hence the knowledge on snares– but you were always clumsy on your feet and would make too much noise. 

x flashback x

“Shhhhh!” Daryl hisses behind you. You’re walking through the woods with a rifle in hand, Daryl with his favorite crossbow. He’s behind you, pointing out the tracks in the dirt beneath your feet. You just stepped on a rock and your foot slid loudly on more rocks, causing the birds around you to scatter in the trees. 

“Could you stop yelling at me, I can't focus!” You whisper back at him, but it’s definitely louder than you intended. He stops dead and stands straight. 

“You wan’ learn how t’do this or nah?”  

You turn and roll your eyes back at him, facing forward again and watching your feet as you walk. 

After another few minutes of trying your best to make it quietly through the woods, Daryl stops you with his hand on your arm, and points down to the ground. There, you see the tracks of the small buck you’ve been trying to follow. You smile and nod, spotting it just up ahead of the two of you. Daryl puts his crossbow down without a sound as you heft the rifle up over your left shoulder, ready to aim. He comes up behind you slowly, and you feel his breath on the nape of your neck. Your spine shivers at the close contact, but you inwardly shake it off, narrowing your eyes at the deer in front of you. His right arm comes under yours, giving you the support under the stock of the gun. His head rests on your left shoulder, left hand covering yours at the trigger. He points the gun directly at the barrel of the buck, so the bullet would go straight through its heart.

Your hands are shaking, and your eyes start to leak before you realize you're crying. Daryl pulls back and you let out a shaky sob. 

“ ‘M, sorry Daryl,” you say, and the buck whips its head in your direction, finally noticing you. Daryl is standing behind you with his arms down at his sides, with a blank expression. 

“I just can’t do it” you cry out, dropping the rifle at your feet and covering your face with your hands. You’re expecting him to snap at you for being such a baby. You’ve been working up to this for days, learning how to shoot and what deer tracks look like. 

“Hey, hey” he whispers, “s’alright, stop. Cmon, stop,” he pulls your arms down and looks you in the eyes, “first times always the hardest, s’okay,” he cups your face in his hands and you reach forward and hold onto the outside of his biceps. You’re blubbering in his hands, but he’s shushing you and leans his cheek against the side of your face, bringing you in for a hug. 

“S’okay,” he whispers against your hair.

x flash forward x

As you follow quietly and closely behind the buck, you can’t help but admire Daryl’s arms . I mean, shit. They weren’t that toned the last time you saw him. He holds his crossbow with such precision, his biceps curling and flexing as he has it aimed up. The deer is out of sight for you, but you know Daryl has his eyes on other clues in the dirt for it. In your hazy thoughts you barely register the yelping sound ahead, and you both make a run for it toward the noise. What surprises you is when you hear someone else ahead–a human voice. 

Many human voices.

Chapter 2 is here

[redneckstrash]

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

[redneckstrash]

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Y/N: Daryl, you need to react when people cry!

Daryl: I did. Rolled my eyes.

[redneckstrash]

Some rec a Daryl series for me😭

My criteria:

It must be well written

A happy ending (no Daryl or y/n dying😭)

Please and thank you🙏🏻

[redneckstrash]

in another universe, your favorite characters are reading fanfic about you. Feel special.

[redneckstrash]

*patiently waiting for the apocalypse*

[redneckstrash]

Wildcats (part VII)

VII. A time to break down.

MASTERLIST

Summary: You are to stay in Atlanta, with Daryl. 

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, cannibalism, near death experience, you know what this is about. 

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: I had to divide this chapter in two parts! it got a bit big mmmm hahaha, anyways, enjoy minutes of quality time with our favorite archer.

You made a tough decision, Carol was set to get back to the church, with Noah as a collateral, as you and Daryl were set to stay in Atlanta, and keep watch.

You were extremely nervous to be alone with him, you had been mean to him that morning during your funeral rites and honestly, he was still mean to you sometimes when you were out there.

The air was thick between the both of you as soon as you saw the car you found and fix drive away. You really should learn some mechanics, maybe Rosita could teach you, she was such a badass

“You comin?”, he asked, already done with you, from the glass gates of the building, you nodded and followed him quickly.

You had lost all the bravado you had gotten in your turf, this was unknown territory now. You were still kind of angry that they spoke shit about you yesterday. You felt kind of sad, actually, they didn’t say anything bad, but something you had heard a couple of times before… that you were not gonna make it out here, they probably wondered why you had been so far, but you had been, you did, you saved his ungrateful ass, didn’t that count for something?

You cleared a floor and stayed there, with clear sights to the hospital and to the streets your friends could be coming back in later that same day, or at least so hoped so. You wondered how Carol remembered how to go back, because you couldn’t possibly do it.

You set up some sort of vigilance post, you had a big gun, you couldn’t remember which one, and with it you could watch the hospital. The silence was uncomfortable between the two of you, although you felt as Daryl might be softer towards you, and you wondered -again-, if it was because of what happened this morning, with your friend? Did he pity you now? because somehow that was worse

You sneaked a peek of him, he seemed determined, a man on a mission, to find this girl, maybe she was his girlfriend or something

Why didn't that idea sit well with you? Why did you have a bitter taste in your mouth at that thought?

Why did you care? he seemed to despise you.

You sighed way too loudly and he seemed to notice, sneaking a peek at you too

A thought, quickly, say something! anything!

“I think we should just… buy Beth’s release”, you muttered

“Ya got any money?”, he asked mockingly

“No, I mean, if resources are why they are “charging” Beth and Noah with involuntary servitude, really, we should buy their release, with medicine and food”, you muttered. You felt his gaze on you.

“Nah”, he said, “we should go in, take em out one by one, take her back”

“You cannot possibly believe that is the best course of action”, you mocked back, now every plot to make conversation over and wanted to discuss his point of view.

“Beats talkin”, he muttered under his breath, you sighed, loudly, and he looked at you angrily, you felt his heated gaze on you

“If shots start flying they are just as likely to end in our group then theirs”, you said angrily

“Ya have to toughen’ up!”, he said, you looked at him and he seemed desperate for you to grasp into that simple truth… that perhaps today all what mattered was who had the bigger gun, and how good they were at shooting it

“Well, I’m just another dead girl, right?”, you asked back at him, he shook his head, truly crossed with you 

“It meant nothin”, he drawled, “what I said”, he muttered under his breath

“You are not the first person that thinks that about me, and you won’t be the last”, you whispered. It hurt a bit, hearing it from him.

“It's bullshit”, he said, “didn’t mean it”

“Then why would you say it?”, you pressed

“Jus’ wanted to get Carol off my back, alright?”, he said, frustrated 

“What are you, twelve?”, you mocked. ... you seemed pretty cozy with her last night… the new girl. He didn’t answer, he just mumbled something under his breath. 

An awkward silence formed between you, you didn’t want to leave it like this, anxiety taking a hold on you, but still, you didn’t say anything.

Daryl saw it, the anguished look on your face, and immediately thought you were thinking about this morning 

“Who was that guy?”, he asked softly. You immediately got that he was asking about Pope

“Him, me and three others escaped together when our shelter was overrun”, you said softly, “he was a part of the team”

“What happened?”, wasn’t he in a chatty mood?, unusual, you’d think

“one of them, our leader, was a Sergeant from the army, he trained us, kept us safe, he was the first one to go, sacrificed himself so we could make it, had a grenade, took a bunch of walkers with him”, you said with admiration. “He was badass, reminds me of Abraham a bit”

“Why’d you leave?”, he asked, looking back at him.

“There was one that wasn’t so nice”, you whispered. You felt his gaze on you, but you only looked ahead, beyond the windows, beyond the hospital

“Did he hurt ya?”, he asked. You shook your head

“Didn’t get to”, you said, “I left first”, you said simply. You looked through the scope of the rifle you had, but again, there was nothing to see. “Pope, the guy from yesterday, wouldn’t come with me, he was as scared as the next person and I couldn’t make any promises to where we were going, I didn't even know where I was going to spend the night out there”. You were talking more than you thought you’d be, but something loosened your tongue, you felt comfortable telling him. “So he stayed…”

“And where’s the other asshole?”, he asked

“Who knows”, you whispered, “but he cleaned up most of the armory, so I think he just got a better offer with another group”, you felt his gaze on you, and you started to get nervous, to kept trying to watch the hospital, but it wasn’t working, your pulse was worse because of how nervous you were 

“You can’t be trustin’ people”, he said, looking outside, “It's gonna get you killed”, he whispered

“So, under that premise, I shouldn’t trust you either”, you said, “or Rick, or Carol, or Michonne, or Carl…”

“No, not tha”, he said, “Ya can trust us”

“Well, I do”, you said lowly. 

“What I’m sayin is that you can’t go around trustin all of em”, he said, “ya are one of us now, par of the family”, you looked at him, he looked back at you, it was so contradictory, most of the time he asked like he didn’t want you here anyways. 

“It’s because I care about the lot of you that I don’t want anything to happen to you, and I will try to prevent it… prevent you from getting shot at, for example”, you explained, exasperated. You tried to keep watching, but your arms and hands were trembling so much. You were nervous, didn’t quite understand why. Was the grief? the nervousness of the closeness with Daryl? tiredness? lack of nutrients? bitterness from what Daryl had said? He kept treating you like you were a child. You didn’t know, you wanted to faint

“Ya shakin”, he said

“I know!”, you said back, lowering the weapon. “I’m just… tired”, you sighed loudly, “you know what? I’m gonna make a round through the floor, a sweep”, you said

“I’m comin with ya”, he said standing up

“That will defeat the purpose”, you said slowly, “besides we need to keep eyes on that hospital”, you said shakily

“Wanna get away from me?”, he asked, a bit offended. you passed him the assault rifle.

“My pulse sucks”, you said gently, “I won’t get myself killed, I promise”, you said with a shy smile, he seemed to analyze your face, but eventually he relented, nodded with a growl, taking the weapon from your hands, you grabbed your gun with a silencer from your holster and kept it unlocked, and adventures yourself out of the room and down the hall.

You didn’t want to get away from him, not really, it wasn’t personal, you just needed to breathe a bit loosely, you felt like your ribs were crushing your lungs. 

it was too much

Pope was dead, you were the one to end him -completely-, and you were stressed, you didn’t want to be back in Atlanta, you feel like all the things you have done in all these months don’t matter anymore, all that you had advanced was worth nothing. Back to square one. You watched everyroom, there were no walkers. You peeked behind every door, every dorner of the floor, you didn’t want to go lower or higher, you didn’t want to risk it. 

You were on the last floor, you’d realize, and when you got to a small room that was next to the elevator, and to your amazement, there, untouched… stood a vending machine. You gazed upon what might as well be the last candybars in the world and your mouth watered at the sight, so you walked straight at it

Oh if only you had seen the water damage from the roof… dampened and ruining the floor in front of it

It collapsed as soon as you stepped on it. The last thing you remember is losing your footing, the floor collapsing under your weight… the next? incredible pain as you landed haphazardly on the floor on the next level. You tried to stand, but a shot of pain rushed through you… fortunately, only one story down. You didn’t know how long you had been laying there on top of cheap construction materials (luckily), but as you came back to your senses, four walkers were reaching for you from the door to the next office. 

“Damn it!”, you screamed, trying to grab your ax, you no longer had the gun in your hand.

You tried to stand but your legs failed you, the adrenalin still wouldn’t let you do a realistic asset of the damages to your body yet. You stumbled back when you tripped over a thin broken beam and you lost footing. The first walker fell on top of you, putrid smell and one dead eye looking down at you, jaws snapping. You didn’t have the momentum to stab him with your ax, but you did use your knife, and he was killed in an instant, the problem was that the second one fell on top of it, and you consequently. 

The wind got knocked out of you, your arms trapped underneath the first one, and just when it was about to bite you, a bolt broke into his skull, almost getting you.

“Damn it!”, you hear Daryl curse from above. He jumped, he actually jumped to your rescue, You got out of your two-body imprisonment, and you actually managed to stand and help Daryl slay the last one, after he majestically ended the third. And then it was all done, you stayed back from the door when they had entered, but no more came. When he made sure of that, he turned to you with so much anger you actually took a step back

“What is wrong with ya?”, he snapped, “you almost got killed!”

“I’m sorry!”, you said quickly, the adrenaline abandoning you, a shot of pain rushed through your leg, and you whimpered, “I got excited and didn’t see”

“This is what I mean!”, he said, he was really angry, you had never seen him like this… in the week you had met him. “I really keep wonderin’…”

“I know, you’ve said it!”, you said, more loudly than you wanted it. this time, your eyes filled with tears, “you keep wondering how I’m still alive”, you said angrily, couldn’t look at him. “You know if you hate me so much, if you consider me this much of a burden you should have let that walker get me, or the other day! or you should have left me in Terminus”

“Is that what ya think?”, he asked, he walked towards you, squealing up to you, in his eyes so much frustration that it was insane

“Why do you though? hate me so much?”, you asked him, finally looking at him. “I have done nothing but try and be as helpful as I can, and I really don’t want to throw this on your face, but I did save your ass from those guys when we met”

“I don’t hate ya! That ain’t why im so angry at ya”

“Then why? Why do I frustrate you so much?”, you asked/yelled at him

“Ya don’t get it”, he said angrily, turning from you

“Enlighten me then”, you said back, he wanted to say something, an angry something, turning back again to face you. He looked down on you, at your very eyes. You looked back at him, prepared to hear something hurtful, but he didn’t… he got calmed, he took a deep breath, and rubbed his face with his big hands. You both took a moment to catch your breath, you started to feel the hit on your side, on your leg, but nothing was broken, or at least you hoped so. He wasn’t going to budge, so you just took a long breath

“Thank you”, you said shakily, “I swear I have never been this careless, I guess I’m getting used to people having my back”, you said shyly

“Ya should”, he said. “You do now”

“I’m sorry”, you said again, echoing your words, “I swear… I…. thank you”, you whispered again. 

It was sinking down on you, just now, the weight of being in a group, all of it, the good and the bad. The losses and the gains, the need to be better for them, to not be a burden, for not having to be saved just like now, Daryl had jumped down a whole floor to save your useless ass, and you kept pestering him. Of meeting incredible people that might die, that may come back to haunt you that you might have to put down

You wiped the tear angrily before it left your eyes, as you looked at the dropped walkers on the floor, you thought you had never been this close before… of dying. You looked at Daryl, who still couldn’t believe what just happened, and you just took two long steps and hugged him tightly. To your surprise, he hugged you back almost immediately, rubbing your back

“I’m sorry!”, you cried, “I’ll do better! don’t hate me”, you whispered the last bit, you didn’t want him to hold ill will towards you.

. . .

Daryl watched you intently as you devoured the Snickers bars, the peanuts in it were hard and chewy, -odd combo but it was true-, and the caramel dangerously mellow, but it tasted like the best candy bar you had ever had. You catch the archer staring at you, with an amused glance on his eyes

“It was totally worth it”, you said with a mouth full

“I bet”, he said, amused. Your ass hurts, and you peeked and you had a horrible bruise on your thigh, but it could have been worse, much much worse, so you were truly thankful

“I don’t want you to hate me”, you whispered, looking at him, feeling extremely guilty

“I don’t”, he assured you, “you just frustrate me”, he admitted, he kept watching the hospital. 

“Well good to know”, you said with a chuckle, you felt your body lax, after the fall, you felt like you could faint, suddenly extremely tired

You wanted to do something nice for him, so you lit a small fire inside one of the drawers in a  filing cabinet, and managed to warm up a can of noodles, which he ate, so you felt happy that you could “provide” for him in return, at least once.

“You sure you're ok?”, he asked, as he ate the noodles, you nodded

“Yeah, only my ass hurts a bit, and my lack of dignity, the rest it's fine”, you said lightly, he chuckled

“If ya wanna, take a lil’ nap”, he offered, you just nodded, gratefully

“I think I will take you up on that offer”, you said softly. You cuddled right next to him, who was sitting by the window, and you cuddled on the floor, wanting to relax your beaten body, and you slept a couple of hours, fully knowing, someone’s got your back.

post chapter notes: the "extra" chapter still isn't done hehe but in this one you found more details about reader's past

taglist 🤍 @crazyunsexycool

[redneckstrash]

Wild Cats

THE WALKING DEAD AU

Summary: You had been alone for a while when you came across Carl, Rick and Michonne, and joining them was going to be your salvation

With them came many others, among them, there was the archer/redneck/badass Daryl Dixon.

You were one of them now, a part of the group, they were your family, and togeher, you could face it all.

The dead were walking, and the living have become wild again.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (slowburn) OCC

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, cannibalism, cursing, slowburn

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Readers it's on her twenties, this will start after the fall of the prison, when everyone is on their own, separately, and go from there. SHE/HER pronouns use, here's to another one of my sheannanigans

This will go on until the bridge or so. bear with me, this will be OCC for many characters since I'm not the creator or writer to the series hehe, I'll try to keep it "real". love you all

I. Roof cats

II. On the road

III. A leader worth following

IV. Hunter or Prey

V. The need

VI. A time to mourn

[redneckstrash]

Wild Cats (part IV.)

MASTERLIST

Summary: It was true, strength did came in numbers  

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, cannibalism, 

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Is it the name of the fic? I thought we all loved Daryl :(

“Hi, I’m Maggie”, she presented herself to you, and you shook her hand, she must have been around your age

“(y/n)”, you answered back with a shy smile

“Glenn”, she presented, pointing at the man who spoke first

“Now, we need to get ready, we are not going to make it easy on them”, said Rick, “grab anything you can and turn it into a weapon”

“I have some knives”, you said, they all looked at you amazed, and you took a knee and from your big ass boots you took two blades. You handed one to Rick.

Everyone got to work, and it was kind of fun, you made weapons out of everything, most of them took their belts off and use the metal part to make brass knuckles, and Ruck started trying to break the wooden edge of the door to make a stake

The boots you had on were a heavy duty boot, with a rubber edge and soles, and then a thick leather shin. Now that it was getting heated they were a bother, but once a walker tried to munch at your feet and it couldn't because of it. They allowed you to store things in them, you took out their laces and… well, you didn’t know what you were going to do with them but you already had a knife so you just wrapped your knuckles with them.

Daryl was by your side, making his own weapons, you looked at him, wondering if he was good with a knife, anybody could be better than you

“Are you good with a knife?”, you asked him, he looked at you like he wanted to bite your head off when you offered him your knife

“Keep it”, he said

“You have to be better than me using it”, you said, the weapon hanging in the air between you, just when a light hit you from above. A trap door on the roof of the cart.

“Everyone ready!”, Rick screamed but they only dropped what it looked like a gas can inside

“Be careful!”, someone screamed, as it started to release gas. 

“DON’T BREATHE THAT!”, you ran to the back of the cart, protecting your face with the inside of your arm, the knife had been lost in the confusion, and you didn’t have time to look for it, everyone in the cart dropped heavily to the ground

When you came to your senses you felt people walking around you, speaking, their voices became more clear as they were as confused as you were.

You raised your head and looked around the cart, the visibility was already poor, but even now you could see… there was people missing

“Rick is gone!”, said Michonne

“Glenn!”, called Maggie

“Daryl”, you muttered when the archer was nowhere to be found.

“Bob”, called a woman

You stood up again, heavily, you looked at the ground of the cart but the blade was missing, you only hoped Daryl had took it, and not those fuckers.

“What are those sickos going to do with them?”, someone asked.

“We need to see if we can open that thing“, you said looking up, “you! big guy”, you spoke at the big ginger man, he nodded, grabbing you quickly and raising you without further questions. Michonne was there in a second to help him to give you a steady grip, so you could use the strength in half your body to tray and open that trap door. You couldn’t, so you help the man that you learned was called Abraham to raise Michonne this time, but she didn’t have any luck either.

“We need to get out of here, we need to find them before…”

You then jumped to the door and all of you together tried to open it. There was eight of you, still, you couldn’t make it work

It was Rosita now who wanted to be lift up to reach the trap door, and then, between four of you, managed to lift Abraham himself, but not even he could open it.

Just as you were trying to open the big door again. You heard a loud explosion, that shook the entire terrain

“What was that?”, you asked, Maggie stuck her head to the door, and even you who were just standing could hear the gunshots.

“They are under attack!”, she said

“That works in our benefit”, said Rosita

“Do you think that the guys are doing this?”, you asked

“No I don’t think so”, muttered Maggie

But you didn’t have to wonder anymore, someone opened the door and you prepared yourself to jump at whomever was behind it.

But it was Rick and Daryl

“Someone is attacking, come on let’s go!”, he yelled and you all jumped out of there.

It was mayhem. Smoke, walkers coming in, gunshots far away, pandemonium

“Get armed as fast as you can!”, commanded Rick, and you put your knife up and slayed a walker that was coming for you, as you kept together as a group. “kill whoever you see, they will try to kill you”

You were not an idiot, -despite what people who just got to know you might think-, you just didn’t want to accept it, you didn’t, those sickos might only want you to rob you and shit

But you threw up, when you saw… There was a huge pile of human remains on the outside part of one of the warehouses. And they did not look rotten, they were not walker’s remains, those were human, -human- remains.

“We ain’t got time for tha”, muttered Daryl, grabbing you by the arm, and pulling you with him. You had noticed that he had the tendency and grabbing you to encourage you to keep moving, to make sure you did move. 

“They were going to eat us?”, you asked, disgusted

“These are some sick bastards”, you did not ask him what they saw in there, you didn’t have the time.

Your heart was beating fast, you could hear it inside of you. The reality of the moment sinking in, everyone but the people who were in the wagon with you were enemies, and the place was just crawling with moving entities, either dead or alive and they all wanted you dead.

You moved like ninjas through the building, following Rick like he was the chosen one, maybe he was, it certainly felt like it.

He signaled both to stop as you saw a group of those sickos gunning at walkers. You waited until the last one passed by, Rick grabbed him and killed him swiftly, then he shot at their backs. You all jumped and weaponized yourself with their guns before the walkers had those who were still agonizing. A fitting death, you’ll suppose

You had seen it before, but it will never stop hunting you, walkers tearing people alive. The screaming came quickly too.

“Come on!”, Daryl screamed, and you did, you ran like hell. When you were passing by a dead dude, you saw your ax on his belt of his half eaten body, you grabbed it quickly and slain the walker that just turned. 

You lost your backpack too, those bastards took it, you still had things from your… previous life, but… there was no point in holding onto that sort of thing, right?

You preferred to use the ammunition against the living, so as you ran you tried to take down as many walkers as you could, you felt gazes on you. But nobody said anything as you made your way to freedom.

You barely noticed, it came at you, and you just, shot it in the head

Only when it hit the ground did you realize it wasn’t a walker, it was a human being, who you just slaughtered.  

Funny, you had been with Rick’s group for a week and you quadrupled your body count for a year. 

But it was a cannibal psychopath, so you hoped that fact would make you feel better.

You all went to the nearest fence, as some of you covered you when the others jumped, before this whole thing started you were ashamed to admit you had never been really athletic, and even more so when you had trouble to jump the fence, but without even asking someone pushed you up, no questions asked, and you in turn, when you landed, helped the others pass.

You managed to get out of there, weaponized and all, and you left those psychos behind as you ran for the forest

Your heart was still racing, the adrenaline had taken a hold on you and you could say you came out unscathed as you took cover behind the treeline

Everyone was still on-guard, pointing their guns around.

“We need to recover, and come back”, said Rick, you looked back at him like he had two heads

“It’s being overrun!”, said Daryl, and you watched as a big horde of walkers took the territory as their own, “it’s still on fire!”

“If even one of them is alive… they might come back for us”, he said. He did have a point

You only nodded s you started to fill nausea creeping up your throat, you took a couple of steps away from then and you just kept throwing up, the adrenalin having forsaken you

“I don’ think we are going nowhere naw”, you beard Daryl say. 

“I’m sorry”, you whined, Tara, who you just met, came to comfort you, rubbing your back. “It’s just… those were some sick bastards”

“We should get out of here”, said someone you couldn’t quite recognize, and they started arguing

“They are armed to the teeth if we go back maybe we can get more weapons”, fought Abraham

Then, a woman approached the group, she was covered in dried blood, and weaponized to the teeth, and when they saw her, Daryl jumped in her arms and hugged her tightly.

Rick, Michonne, and Carl also were happy to see her, so she must be a part of their group, the one they lost, unlike Abraham, Rosita, Eugene and Tara, who, just like you, were new as well.

“You need to come with me”, she said, and you all got no choice but to follow her, and you wanted to put much distance between you and Terminus

You walked through the woods, and some dark thoughts started creeping on you

Were you doing the right thing by staying with them? You could tell there was strength in numbers but still you couldn’t help but wonder. Since you met the group you had encountered two hostile groups and almost got killed and eaten, you had killed people, more in a week than you had in over a year since this madness started. What does that tell you?

Maybe it would have been best if you just silently walked away. You hadn't noticed, but you slowed down your steps and you got placed last in your group, you watched ahead all those heads, waking forwards.

Oh you were so scared

You were upping the stakes here, big time. More people, more affection you could get and you knew all too well what happened when you believed you were safe and happy.

Oh gods

You almost got eaten today, by people, actual people.

But if you had been alone you would have walked right into the trap and got eaten anyways… no chance of escaping because you were alone…

You could walk away right now and nobody would mind or care… well it was only a few days until you had met them, but still, if you could only have a little sign that this was the right way to go…

“Hey!”, you raised your eyes to see Daryl looking at you, “what are ya’ doin’? this isn’t a stroll through the woods”, he said, always so angry at you

What that your sign? He sighed when you stepped up your pace and walked by his side, he always seemed so frustrated with you, but in some sick way, you didn't mind his gruffness.

“Sorry”, you mumbled.

“Don’t stay behind”, said Rick, “I know what just happened upset you, and I don’t want you to get distracted, walk with us”, he said softly, and you nodded. Yes, you were doing the right thing.  

You walked until you saw a small cabin right in front of you. A big man came out of it, holding a baby. As soon as he saw him, Rick and Carl sprint full speed towards him, Rick took the baby from the man’s arms and hugged her with Carl

“A baby!”, you said happily, it’s been so long since you have seen one, and this one was adorable, “she is a cutie”, you murmured. You felt the gaze of Dixon in you, but you didn’t dare to look back at him

“It’s his daughter”, said the quiet man, Bob, and you smiled even more widely.

This was certainly a stronger sign, right?

You used to find babies really annoying, but now, in this context? It was like a small ray of hope. Like a representation of the most undeniable truth: nature always finds a way.

Now you were just quoting Jurassic Park

Post chapter notes: I feel like these are like filler chapters, but I’m setting a foundation here, and Daryl is a bit mean to reader but that also has some explanation. 

[redneckstrash]

Y/N: There’s something weird going on with your face.

Daryl: Huh? What?

Y/N: You’re—smiling. I didn’t know you could do that.

[redneckstrash]

Blood Ties Chapter 29

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Slightly graphic depictions of labor and childbirth A/N: Maybe a cliffhanger. Maybe not. You'll have to read to find out! ;) Daryl is definitely ooc in this. I'm sorry, I tried to get as close as I could to how he might react. Also, the saying he uses is one we use in the south that means "how is that relevant?" You'll know it when you read it, lol.

“About 4cm now. Progressing nicely.” Hershel informed, wiping his hands on a cloth that Carol had provided. 

Rick and T-Dog were out doing yet another night run in the van. It was also low on fuel but the map showed another town close by. Fuel, gloves, and other necessities were on the list. Glenn was on watch with Daryl for backup if anything happened. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it couldn’t be helped.

Thumper was calling the shots at that point. 

Before the men had left, Daryl had confiscated all the blankets except for those that were for Lori and Carl. When Glenn began to complain, one look from the anxiety-driven archer had brought the young man very close to hiding behind Rick. While some blankets were used for your comfort, others were fashioned into a tent-like structure over the bare branches of a decently sized bush. You needed some sense of privacy. 

Carol and Lori had dug through the maternity clothes that hadn’t been lost on the road and found a button up dress. It was comfortable and made things much easier than leggings. 

After your immediate needs had been met, Daryl then perched himself just beside your shoulder and hadn’t moved since. 

“S’the number we’re aimin’ for?” He asked with frustration lacing his tone, making sure the blankets were back over you and tucked tight to keep you warm. He had been muttering to himself how he wished he had made time to read the rest of the books. Daryl was not a man that liked being in the dark on anything. It made him feel helpless, as you had learned over the last several months. 

“She needs to be at 10cm and the baby needs to be in the correct position before she can push.” The old man positioned the ear tubes of the stethoscope before pressing it against several spots on your belly. “Heart beat is strong. Everything is looking good.”

You had remained quiet until that moment. “Do I just—I don’t know—lay here?”

“Walking encourages the cervix to dilate and soften. Once you dilate a little further, the contractions will likely be stronger, whether painful or not.” The calmness that man practiced really made you want to strangle him with that stethoscope. “Make sure you don’t go alone, and—”

“She ain’t.” Daryl snapped. 

Hershel shot him an admonishing look. “As I was saying, take breaks. Sleep when you can. I’ll check you periodically. You’ll need to keep timing the contractions, son.” Daryl nodded. “Sip small amounts of water, no food. Keep me informed of any changes. And as unpleasant as it may sound, if you feel the pressure and urge as if you may need to have a bowel movement, call for me immediately.”

You, as well as Daryl, reared back, lips curling. 

“The fuck that gotta do with the price’a fish?” The archer queried, not so nicely. 

“Settle down. The pressure from the baby’s head moving into the birth canal can feel similar to that.” Shaking his head, Hershel shuffled his way out of your tiny tent. 

Finally alone, you turned onto your side and scooted your upper body toward Daryl. He stretched out his legs so you could rest on his thigh. 

“Get some rest.” His hand wiggled beneath the blanket and rubbed up and down the length of your upper arm, but moved to your belly when another contraction took over. Without prompting, he slid his warm palm around to your lower back and applied the least bit of pressure, rubbing small circles. You buried your face into his thigh to ride it out, but you had to admit the light massaging helped, if only a little. 

“You’re supposed to be—” You were panting when you rolled your head to remind him, but found the watch already lifted to eye level, his gaze shifting from it to your stomach. 

“Sleep if ya can. I got this.” His brow was furrowed in concentration, your heart swelling and warm. Any worry you had entertained of him running when things got real, just gone in an instant. He was there. He was there. 

“I’ll try.” You whispered, the pain finally an afterthought. You felt him slide his hand back to the side of your stomach before you let yourself succumb to exhaustion. 

“Sorry, Sunshine. Doc says up, so up ya get.”

You let Daryl take your dead weight and pull you up by a grip beneath your arms, making it as difficult as possible so you might get to stay in your warm little nest. You were still at 4cm. Hershel had said you had to start walking to help labor progress. 

“This isn’t fair.” You whined, rubbing your back once you were upright. The pain that accompanied each contraction had lessened but was still ever present. “Can’t you walk and I dilate?”

Daryl snorted. “Don’t think that’s how it works.” He placed a careful hand on the small of your back and kept your pace, slow as it was. 

“Okay, then how about if it gets worse, I kick you in the balls and punch you in the kidneys so you can participate properly?” You were only half joking. 

“If it gets ya through this, I guess.” The archer shrugged. You regarded him with a skeptical brow arched. 

“You’d really let me do that?”

“Hell nah, but s’the thought that counts or some shit like that, right?” He didn’t even try to dodge the smack you aimed at his shoulder. 

“You’re hilarious.” You deadpanned, even as you leaned into him while you strolled in circles around the perimeter. The moonlight caught the watch in his right hand, his finger tapping against the casing. Bless him, he was taking his role of supportive partner very seriously. You gasped when the next contraction came, stopping to bend slightly and breathe through it while Daryl secured an arm around you and flipped open the watch. 

When it was clear you weren’t falling, he slid his hand to the middle of your back and massaged the length of your spine using gentle pressure from the heel of his palm. He never said much—if anything—during the episodes themselves, but kept you informed of the timing of each one. 

“Oh, goddamnit, this one sucks.” You managed through clenched teeth. You swayed slightly when it was over, grasping blindly for the man next to you. 

“Thirteen minutes since the last’un. A minute, twelve.” He was slow and careful when turning you back toward camp. “Let’s getcha back to Hershel.” 

You shook your head. “One last loop, then we can go back.” Daryl didn’t say anything but you felt him tense. “I’m sure. They’re just getting a little more painful in the stomach, less in the back.” 

He still hesitated. “Alright. One more.”

Hershel stepped into your path before you started the second loop, allowing Daryl to fill him in on the last contraction. 

“Do one more. Rest. And then again.” The old man ordered curtly. 

Once he had vanished back toward the small fire, you mocked his words. “Rest and then again.” Daryl shook his head beside you. “I mean seriously, how much help can walking actually be?”

“Fuuuuuck!” You were digging your fingers into the blankets below you, swatting away Carol’s hand when she tried to dab your face with a piece of cloth. Daryl was sitting beside you, wide-eyed and lost, the watch forgotten by his leg. Hershel was between your knees, sporting his medical gloves that had been brought back by Rick and T-Dog. 

The archer cleared his throat. “She alright?” 

“Do I look alright, Daryl?!” You hissed, making an admirable attempt at breathing the way Carol was instructing. The contraction finally ended and you fell back onto the folded blankets. “I’m sorry.” You found his worried blue eyes easily and fumbled for his hand. 

“S’okay.” He whispered, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. 

“She’s at 6cm. We can still time the contractions but I think she may need your attention more than that watch does now.” Hershel reached for the item and placed it in his pocket once Daryl handed it over. “Keep moving but stay closer, no more perimeter walks.”

Daryl nodded, you whimpered. 

“I’ll be back soon to check again. If we’re lucky, things will move a little faster now that you’re in active labor.” Hershel left the tent while Carol fixed your dress. 

“I know it hurts, but you two will have little Thumper in your arms in just a matter of hours.” She smoothed your hair and tucked it behind your ears. “You’re doing great.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing great.” You murmured, ducking your head almost bashfully. “I’m really sorry I snapped at you, Daryl. It just—well, it hurts and it’s hard to think.”

“Ain’t mad.” He tried for a half smile but it was weak. “Better than gettin’ kicked in the balls, I reckon.” You laughed and squeezed his hand. “Guess we oughtta getcha up again.”

“I’ll help.” Carol offered. You could see that a refusal was on the tip of Daryl’s tongue but he never voiced it. With Carol under one arm and Daryl under the other, you were pulled upright. 

Your body already felt wrung out and sore, and the epic finale hadn’t even begun. Still, you allowed Carol to pass you off to Daryl. 

“We movin’ on? Be better to find a house or somethin’.” He looped an arm around your back, following as you shuffled your way around. 

Carol shrugged, not touching you but keeping up with your small strides. “Both vehicles have fuel but Hershel isn’t sure we should move her. He thinks the baby will come soon and she needs to be kept in one place.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back in frustration. “She is right here. And if my opinion matters, I’d rather not—” The contraction came on strong, halting you suddenly with your hand fisting into the lower part of Daryl’s vest. The archer stepped around in front of you, rough but gentle hands grasping your wrists to guide your arms to his shoulders. 

“Try to breathe. Sometimes humming or even moaning helps, like an outlet.” Carol advised while rubbing your back. 

Your head fell forward against Daryl’s chest, a deep but quiet moan muffled against the firm muscle beyond his shirt. His hands had fallen to your hips, his body followed you as you swayed back and forth. The episodes were growing more intense, coming closer together and lasting longer. It wasn’t difficult to surmise that things would be growing more difficult to handle. 

“Ain’t nothin’ we can do for ‘er?” Daryl asked quietly above you, each word blowing his warm breath over the top of your head. Carol must have answered in the negative because his fingers flexed against your hips. 

The skin of your belly was pulled so tightly that you swore it would tear open, the muscles feeling as if they would pulse right out of the gaping hole your torn flesh would leave. 

“Shit.” You whimpered, your voice finding its way back during the last dregs of pain. You almost didn’t register warm hands gliding up and down your sides, a smaller hand on your back. “I don’t want to have the baby here.” You argued weakly. “It’s too open. Things will be too chaotic, too loud.”

“I know, Sunshine, but the doc says—”

“I don’t want to risk Thumper here in the open, Daryl. With—with walkers or people.” With enough strength having returned after the pain, you lifted your head, eyes pleading. “Please.”

The archer was visibly upset. He was just as vulnerable as you were at that moment, torn between what he felt was right and what Hershel said was for the best. His tongue wet his bottom lip before he pulled it in between his teeth, looking to Carol for guidance. 

“Could lay down the seats in the van. Use the back.” He suggested. “Plenty’a room an’ if we need to move fast—”

“I don’t think that’s unreasonable.” Carol agreed, rubbing your back in a few soft strokes before beginning to move away. “I’ll go talk to Hershel. You two keep walking.”

You watched her go, turning your gaze up to Daryl when he shifted back to your side to urge you along. “Gotta keep movin’.” You groaned, dragging your feet with your head falling back in frustration. 

You were in the middle of a contraction, when you heard it. A snarl, a raspy growl much too close. You were already clinging to Daryl and breathing through the pain that was readying your body for Thumper’s arrival, but you’d have to let him go. He had to protect the baby. And to do that, he had to protect you. 

But he didn’t move. He was nearly vibrating, rigid beneath your hands on his shoulders. He was just as scared as you were, even more so. He knew he could take the walker but that would mean letting you go. He needed to protect you but he wanted to support you. He had told you he'd never let you fall and you knew he had meant it.

“Go.” Your hands slid from his shoulders, down his chest before they released him completely to clutch your belly.

His boots disappeared from your view of the ground but you couldn’t focus after that. The pain was growing in intensity, immobilizing you with your lips tightly pressed to withhold the cries that vibrated behind your teeth for release. You couldn’t, you just couldn’t make a sound. You’d attract more, endanger everyone. You’d endanger Thumper. Daryl. 

There were scuffles. More snarls. Tears were threatening your waterline. Pain was coursing through you like a serpent, slithering around each muscle and tendon and pulling them tight. You felt disappointment and guilt over all the agony when your mouth fell open with a guttural moan, your will to cut off the scream that begged to follow barely holding true. 

“D—Daryl.” You cried out. And he was there, hands on your face, your biceps, your belly. 

“M’here. M’here. Gotta move, though.” He swept you up with the slightest strained noise. “Gonna getcha to the van. Gonna find somewhere safe for ya.” The pain was fading. You could focus on the dark blood on his face, the dirt and grime. 

“Herd?” You whispered. 

“Ain’t your fault.” His expression emanated fear and stress. “The hatch.” Someone was with him. The small hands that opened the back of the van and spread out the blankets, those were Carol’s. She sat a pile of smaller blankets and squares of fabric toward the indents on the floor where the seats had been stowed. 

“Get as many in the truck as you can! In the cab and the bed!” Rick was calling out at the same time that Hershel climbed into the van. Daryl was careful when he placed you inside, climbing over you before pulling you further in to make room for Hershel and Carol. 

Through your haze of exhaustion, you saw Rick climb in the driver's seat and Maggie beside him. That meant that five others had to somehow fit into the truck. 

“Is everyone okay?” You asked, eyes pleading with Daryl for an honest answer. 

“Yeah, they’re all good.” He nodded, smoothing a hand over your hair. 

The van was moving, though you didn’t realize when it had started. Hershel was between your knees when another contraction came. It felt like only moments had passed since the last one. In the safety of the van, though you couldn’t be bothered to consider that, you bowed forward with a scream. Daryl gingerly worked your fingers loose from the blanket to take your hand. 

“She’s at 9cm. This baby is coming soon.” Hershel didn’t move this time, he and Carol began sorting things that you couldn’t see. Panting, you leaned to the side, knowing Daryl would be there. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed. 

“What—” He swallowed audibly. “Tell me what I need to do.” 

“Just be with her.” Carol poured some water from a bottle onto a piece of fabric and passed it across you for Daryl to take. “Wipe her face, put it behind her neck.”

The archer’s hand was trembling fiercely when you felt the blessed cool cloth touch your forehead. The moan that left you was not one of pain but utter relief. “Oh, that’s nice.” You breathed. Your skin was on fire, every cell of your being felt twisted and wrong. But that trembling cloth wiping at your face grounded you, centered you around what your body was preparing to do. 

You were so close to being a mother. 

But that didn’t stop the scream that ripped from your throat when the next contraction tore through you. You sat up, propped on your elbows with your eyes screwed shut. Tears leaked from the corners, the wailing cutting off into wretched sobs when you felt Daryl’s forehead fall against the crown of your head, his mantra of m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry shattering you into a million shards. 

You couldn’t tell him it was okay. You couldn’t remind him why you hurt. You couldn’t reassure him that he was the one you wanted and you were more than happy to do this with him. For him. You didn’t have the breath. 

“Don’t push, Y/N. Not yet.” Hershel’s tone was even but not cruel, his gloved hands on your knees. 

“It fucking burns!” You shrieked, squeezing Daryl’s hand until you were certain you felt the bones shift. The contraction let up, the fiery sensation dulling but ever present. 

“What’s happenin’?” Daryl sounded breathless. Terrified. You were still catching your breath when you looked up at him. His tan skin was white as a sheet, no color in his lips. His blue eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen them. From tears or fear, you couldn’t be sure. 

“The baby’s in the right position. Y/N, it’ll be time to push soon. It’ll be very important for you to listen to everything I say. Can you do that?” Hershel wasn’t looking at you, between moving around things Carol was handing to him and keeping a constant eye on your progress. Distantly, you wondered why it was Carol at his side and not Maggie. Maybe because you were close with Carol? For your comfort? 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can.” You turned your attention back to Daryl when his grip on your hand loosened slightly. He swayed, the pallor of his skin growing more concerning. “Daryl?”

The archer shook his head almost violently. “M’good.”

“Okay, I just—oh, fuck, already!?” You grit your teeth as your stomach tightened, a visible shift beneath the fabric of your dress. 

“Maggie, can you climb back here?” Hershel requested calmly. His eldest said nothing but maneuvered her way into the back and on your opposite side. “I fear we may lose Daryl at any moment and Y/N will need support.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Daryl snapped but it was a weak effort. He inhaled deeply and began squeezing your hand to keep you from dislocating his fingers. 

“Here.” Carol passed him an opened bottle of water. “Drink a few sips. You’re white as a ghost.”

You were barely aware of everything happening around you, shaking almost violently to refrain from bearing down until Hershel told you to do so. It was bordering on excruciating. 

“Jesus Christ, it feels like you’re holding a flamethrower to my fucking pussy!” 

Hershel sighed while Maggie and Carol chuckled and Daryl snorted out a quiet nice, Y/N. 

“It’s just the birth canal stretching to make room for the baby.” The veterinarian explained coolly. 

“Just?” You mocked. “Just, he says while it’s my—oh Jesus fuck!” With all the presence of mind you could summon, you managed not to start screaming at Daryl for putting you in that position. You knew that beyond the pain and fear, you wanted Thumper in your arms more than anything in that fucked up world. 

“Okay, Y/N,” Hershel patted your bare knees just at the tail end of the contraction to ensure he had your attention. You had fallen back against Maggie while Daryl held the cool cloth against the back of your neck. His hand was vibrating your skull to the point that you nearly asked him to move away. “You’re ready. On the next contraction, you need to push.”

“God, your calm voice makes me want to kick you in the teeth.” You didn’t mean it—mostly. Hershel must have known that because he chuckled. You could feel the next contraction already building when the van lurched to a stop, throwing everyone in it. 

“We got a herd in front of us!” Rick called from the front. 

“Go ‘round it! Turn ‘round! Just keep ‘em off us!” Daryl yelled as the pain peaked. “Fuck!” He bellowed when your hand began to shake with how hard you squeezed his own. 

“Push!” Hershel shouted over the bumps and jerks of the van doing whatever Rick had deemed best. “Good, good!” He began to countdown from ten while you screamed.

You were being torn open. Thumper was going to rip you in half on their way out. Your throat was raw, surely bleeding from your wails. When the old man reached one, you fell back against Maggie but Daryl’s hand was there too. 

“Maggie, Daryl, hold behind her knees. Help support her legs. It’ll keep her hips open.” Both moved forward, taking you with them to sit you up a little straighter. Daryl had to release your hand to hold you and your leg. The archer hissed with the pressure against his abused palm. “Perfect. Alright, Y/N. A nice, strong push this time.”

You almost snarled. “Last one wasn’t good enough?”

“Easy, Sunshine.” You felt Daryl's lips against your temple and yearned to keep them there. 

“I’m sorry, Hershel.” Once again, the man simply smiled. Lori had told you that childbirth in the movies was often dramatized but so far, you weren’t seeing the truth in that statement. When the contraction reached a crescendo, you leaned forward while Maggie and Daryl held your legs steady. The pain was extraordinary. You almost wished you could see what was happening, but any train of thought was derailed with Hershel’s next words.

“The baby is crowning!” 

Gasping, you swallowed hard, glancing at Daryl—who had a front row seat to what was happening—and then back to Hershel. “Crowning?”

“The head will be out soon.” 

“All this and we don’t even have the head out?!” You screeched, just as your stomach rippled into a rigid mound and you were pushing again. This pain was different. Thumper was definitely ripping you apart. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! It burns!”

“S’that—” Daryl cleared his throat and swallowed, swaying on the spot. “S’that normal?”

“Perfectly normal.” Hershel glanced up at the archer, back down, and then up again. “Carol.” He needn’t say anything else. The other woman was moving to grab the back of your leg and let Daryl fall against her so he didn’t smack his head on the side of the van.

You were completely unaware, your entire focus centered on the inferno between your legs. There was no way any woman would willingly do this unmedicated. Never in your life had you wanted drugs more than you did in that moment. Thumper. Thumper, Thumper. You chanted internally, even as your vocal chords vibrated harshly with your screams. And just as you thought you would lose consciousness from the pain, it lessened. It hadn’t disappeared but comparatively, you would take that over the prior. 

“The head is out!” 

Panting, you smiled but then fell into confusion when you saw Carol beside your leg and Daryl slumped against her. “Daryl? Daryl?!” You shifted but Maggie held you still. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Hershel chuckled. 

“Who knew a man that could gut a walker without batting an eye couldn’t watch his baby’s head come out?” Carol smiled but began to act, jerking her shoulder to jar the archer. “Daryl. Daryl, wake up. You don’t want to miss this.” He stirred and started to lean back. “Think you can take a look without losing it again?”

“Shuddup.” He shook his head hard, grunting. His hand was the first thing to move, sliding beneath Carol’s to take hold of your leg. Then he was looking at you. “M’sorry. That was—fuck, m’a pussy.” Maggie was moving your hand and pulling you forward as you watched your partner. 

Then your fingers were touching a soft, albeit slimy, head. 

You gasped. “Daryl.”

The man gulped, but then sat up on his knees a little. You watched the fear and apprehension melt away into awe, his jaw loosening, eyebrows rising, and eyes beginning to shine. “S’that—”

“That’s Thumper.” You were able to say before Hershel announced your miniscule break was over. He didn’t need to say a word, your body was already letting you know. Daryl’s hold felt stronger now and he was watching with an awestruck intensity that just made your heart want to explode even as you rode out the waves of agony. You were going to be a little family.

Then, out of the blue, you could feel something was different, wrong.

“Her—Hershel—Ow, fuck—” You fingers clawed at Daryl’s chest, his wet eyes going wide with concern. The contraction ended and you were gasping and swallowing convulsively, feeling nauseous regardless of your lack of food. Daryl’s eyes were darting back and forth between you and the old man. “Daryl, something—something’s wrong.” You could tell the baby had not moved an inch during the pushing, but not only that, it felt like they had actually pulled back toward your opening. 

“I know.” Hershel’s voice had lost the calm and was taking on an emergent edge. “The baby is stuck.”

Panic flashed over Daryl’s face in the form of anger. “The fuck ya mean stuck?!”

Still trying to catch your breath, sweat dripping into your eyes, you thought for certain Daryl was going to jump across your leg and attack the old man. Thankfully, he remained at your side. Trembling and breath stuttering, but he wasn’t moving. 

“Shoulder dystocia. The baby is turned in such a way that the shoulders can’t fit through the pelvis. Carol, I will need your help, please.” You were already on the edge of the next contraction when Hershel nearly barked “Y/N, don’t push.”

“What the fuck’re ya doin’?” Daryl snapped, leaning over your leg to investigate. So many emotions were battling for dominance in his expression that you couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was feeling.

“Daryl, please.” You pleaded, trying your hardest not to sob. For once, you cared nothing about being self-reliant or what the group thought of you and how much you needed Daryl. As you fought through the pain and against your body’s natural insistence to push, you just cried. Daryl kept a hand below your knee, too afraid to move unless Hershel gave the okay, but he leaned as far as he could to hold you without influencing your position.

“S’okay, Sunshine. S’gonna be okay.”

“Y/N, listen to me. I can feel the shoulder.” Now, the veterinarian’s tone was just downright frightening. “Maggie and Daryl are going to pull your legs back on the next contraction. I’m going to apply some pressure above your pubic bone. It’s not going to be pleasant, but if I’m correct, the head should come and then the baby. I need you to push with all you have, do you understand?”

You pressed your cheek further into Daryl’s chest and nodded, hiccuping through ragged, exhausted breaths. When the contraction began to tear through you, Maggie and Daryl reacted immediately, pulling your legs toward your belly while you curled inward with a guttural scream. Hershel pressed into the area just above your pubic bone, the pressure only compounding the whirlwind of pain you were already caught in. And then it was over and you let the two supporters take your weight.

The van rocked again, but was ignored. Hershel looked at Carol gravely and shook his head. 

“S’that ‘bout?” Daryl hissed, trying hard for your sake not to lose his cool.

“It didn’t work.” Before Daryl could speak, the old man continued. “We’re going to try one more time. If it doesn’t work, there are a couple of other things we can try but time is of the essence. The baby isn’t getting the oxygen they need like this.”

“Whatever ya gotta do. Just take care’a both’a ‘em.” 

Hershel nodded. “Alright, same thing, Y/N. A big, big push for me.”

You shook your head, exhausted. “I can’t.” You whispered, your eyelids heavy as hope attempted to flee and you accepted that once again, the world would take from you. It would take from Daryl. “I’m so tired.” You felt movement beneath your left leg and then Daryl’s hand was grasping your chin, firm but gentle. 

“Hey. Cut that shit out.” He wasn’t angry. He was using the same tone you’d heard him use when he had told Thumper to cut you some slack. When he had started communicating with the baby. “Ya’ve gone through hell an’ back for this an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya quit at the goddamn finish line, ya hear me?”

“I’m tired, Daryl.” Your face screwed up in pain as the next contraction began to build.

“Nu uh. Ya ain’t gonna bust into my life an’ fuck up my world six ways from Sunday, make me love ya an’ this kid, an’ then just give up. S’you an’ me an’ Thumper. S’what ya said!”

You blinked at him, slowly starting to sit up.

“I’ve seen ya be a badass before, Sunshine.” Your breaths were coming faster, the contraction nearly on top of you, but you only had eyes for Daryl. “Be a fuckin’ badass now.” His hand left your face and went back to your leg, pulling it toward you at the same time Maggie moved the right one. 

You screamed so loud that you were certain the rocks and bumps of the van were due to your wails alone. Something shifted, you felt it and it hurt. You were on fire and aching at the same time. When the contraction ended, you still felt painfully stretched and bruised and uncomfortable. “Did—did it work?” You panted, grasping desperately for Daryl’s shirt.

“The head is out, the shoulders are turned. One more big push, Y/N. Just one more.”

You breathed harshly through your nose, trying to amp yourself up. Maggie and Carol were throwing encouragement your way, but you didn’t hear them. You only felt Dary’s breath against your ear, his stubbled cheek rubbing against your skin.

He whispered, only for you to hear. “I love ya.” Kissing your temple, he moved back to his spot and when you looked at him, exhausted and crying, the corner of his mouth twitched and he nodded.

You could do this.

When the next contraction ripped through you, the world went silent. It was only you and the pain, white hot and all consuming. You were indeed being torn in half but if it meant Thumper would take that first breath, would open those little eyes to see the world—fucked up or not—then you would gladly be wrenched into pieces. 

The moment the baby slipped free of you, you felt the emptiness. You still hurt, but the worst of the pain was suddenly absent. Sound and sight came back to you in an onslaught that had you sucking in a breath like your lungs had been starved. 

“Is—Hershel, the baby?” You asked, trying to move as Daryl and Maggie lowered your legs. The archer was leaning across your knee. You couldn’t even tell if he was breathing, but his eyes were wide and darting. 

“Doc—”

The ferocious first cries of the distraught newborn echoed throughout the van. Maggie had moved behind you to keep you sitting up while Daryl had staggered backward and fallen on his ass against the interior wall, eyes on the little thing that Hershel was looking over intently. Maggie reached over your shoulder and began unbuttoning your dress, whispering in your ear as she moved.

“The baby needs to nurse, bond with you on your skin and it’ll help when you have to push out the placenta, okay?” You blinked at her, concerned. “It’s okay. It’s nothing like what you just went through. One or two small pushes and it’s out.”’ You nodded robotically, watching Hershel maneuver some sort of tape around a slimy cord.

Thumper was not happy. They were probably cold and that thought made your heart ache. Your baby should never be uncomfortable. Daryl was slowly, clumsily making his way toward you, but wasn’t taking his eyes off the baby. When he was sitting beside you, Hershel finally leaned over you and placed the squirming, slippery baby on your chest.

“Congratulations. You have a daughter.”