One Shots

Daryl Dixon x (Y/N)

I wake up to the sound of moans and shuffling feet. These sounds seemed to be the only noises that exist now -a-days. These vile, haunting sounds come from the dead. Over time I have heard many names for them "walkers", "biters", "geeks",... "zombies". I guess that is the best way to describe them. They are just empty, rotting husks that used to be people.

It had been months since I have seen another person... a living, breathing person that is. I am a survivor. I live, breathe, fight, and protect myself. I guess having a family like mine ended up saving my life in this new world that the human race calls home.

I came from a family of five. Consisting of my parents and two brothers. My father loved my brothers, he saw them as the God's gracious "gifts and I was just the mistake. My mother, well if you could even call her that, was just a trophy that followed and obeyed my father's every beck and call. Life for the first couple of years was bearable. Not great but bearable. It wasn't until my brothers died that shit took a turn for the absolute worst.

My eldest brother was like my father in many ways, when he said jump he expected people to do so, but my younger brother was always the calmer one who was there to bail the eldest out of trouble when needed. Even though my father hated me, my brothers loved and cared for me greatly. Heck they are the ones who practically raised me. And in the end they died protecting me. This only caused my father to hate me even more. Thinking back to the hell that made up my life before makes all of this shit seem like a walk in the fucking park. My brothers taught me how to survive off the land and that is exactly what I plan to do. The past don't mean shit anymore, all I can do is fight on to live another day. It is what my brothers would have wanted me to do.

The sound of crunching leaves and hushed whispers soon knocked me out of my thoughts of the past. I push myself back farther into the tree that I was perched in. Attempting to better blend into the surroundings of the treetops as I searched around for the owners of the sudden noise. And low and behold passing beneath me was a group of people... LIVING people. They were smart. Keep in tight groups, tried to make little to no sound, no guns or loud weapons. I had to say I was impressed, especially since most of the group was made up of women and children who looked as though they would barely be able to look at a "zombie" let alone kill one.

My good thoughts of these people didn't last long. While they may be smart about how they travel, they sure as hell were not observant enough. There is a couple of... well I am just going to call them walkers from now on.... that are going to met up with them very soon. I was just going to leave them be. I mean it ain't my problem that they are unobservant. But something was telling me to help them, which confused me because these days you can't trust anyone.

After watching the walkers get slowly closer and closer, I finally finished my internal battle and decided to help the unsuspecting group. But just because I was going to help them doesn't mean that I was going to reveal myself to them. HECK NAH! That would be stupid as fuck.

I slowly and as quietly as possible removed the bow and arrows that were strapped to my back. I notch an arrow and quickly take aim at the head of the walker closest to the group before releasing the arrow. The arrow hit its mark, effectively killing the walker and alerting the group of strangers of the other walkers following behind. The group scrambled and killed the last of the dead, and thankfully I only had to use two arrows. One for the first walker and the second to save one of the group members, a redneck who carried a pretty bad ass crossbow.

"Good job Daryl," the leader states motioning to one of my arrows that was sticking out of the head of walker.

"That ain't my arrow," the redneck, a.k.a Daryl, comments pulling my arrow from the head and holding it up next to one of his.