Daryl Dixon x reader (TWD fanfic)

Chapter one- Creeper

Day 367 (I'm making it up, I really don't know the difference between today and two weeks from yesterday)

Everyday, it's repetitive. I wake up, I hunt, I kill, I eat, drink, drink some more, pass out, repeat. The highlight of each day is the drink some more. Things never change. It wasn't that I started off this way, because I didn't. I had my family, friends, boyfriend. Life seemed like it would be fine, of course there were corpuses walking around and eating people. Like always that ended. My life was the representation of danger. I wanted to go outside the campsite, I begged to be the one to go hunting. I always asked, the one time I wasn't there- It's unimportant what happened that day. Now, now I'm here staring at a campsite a football field away from a farm. I watched, maybe it was the hesitation in every action. If I'm being honest, I did this daily. I watched the camp. Maybe it was watching them panic at the small things, maybe it was the rush of being so close yet so far. They often argued or fought over stupid things. Very. Very. Often. I felt like I knew everyone of them. I know it's creepy, scary, insane. Whatever you want to call it, it's intriguing. Watching them. There was two men who caught my interest.
Number one- Daryl, a redneck with a crossbow and a motorcycle. He was rough around the edges but, if I watched him long enough he would sit at his campsite, the one far away, and cry. Like something hurt him deeper than anything else. Like a knife had swung through him. Like nothing mattered. He was sad, he was hurting. Everything he did just, it was beautifully designed to draw me to him.
Number two- Rick Grimes. The sheriff who forgets the world is gone. The redneck who acts like he knows but, he doesn't. I've seen him break. The way he looks at his wife and son. The way he boils over when he sees the guy named Shane. I've seen it, everything blows my mind. The articulate way he does things. The simplicity. Everything he does is for a cause, maybe not the right one but, it is one.

I wrote down every word I was thinking as I watched the group yell and argue yet again. There was a prisoner locked in the shed. I found myself studding him too. I'd sit in the rafters of the shed while he screamed for someone, cried, attempted to pull himself out of the handcuffs, the way he didn't think anyone was listening when he prayed. Watching him made me feel even closer to the group. One day, I heard the little boy, Carl I think, talking to Shane. I knew the names from listening in on conversations.

"Now you stay away from him, you hear me?" Shane's voice was boring, repetitive, it wasn't exciting or out there. It was like being forced to listen to the same word all day.

"Okay." Carl's voice sounded sure, but only half an hour later he was sitting in the rafters near me- not having spotted me- watching the prisoner too. I wanted so badly to say something, but I didn't speak. I couldn't speak. My voice was empty, when I wanted to talk all I could make was a small squeak. Carl ignored it and jumped down to talk to the prisoner.

"Your daddy? The sheriff? Oh he's real nice, I like him. I like him a lot." The prisoner was sweet talking the kid. I looked around for something to alert someone outside, so I grabbed a loose wooden plank and I slammed it against another one. I watched as Shane and Andrea came rushing in, yelling, screaming, they were causing a problem. I made it my time, the moment to slip away. I quickly moved the planks that were stuck and I poked my head around, no one was there. I jumped down and crept by the hay bales as people yelled and argued, AGAIN.

"What did I tell you? What did I tell you!" Shane was yelling at the boy and I couldn't help but, listen. I found it funny. The way the man talked to the kid.

"Don't tell my parents. Please!" Carl was coming towards me, I panicked slightly and rounded the other side of the shed. I looked around and saw no one in sight. I took it as an out. I ran towards the house and crept around the back. I felt pressure of someone behind me and when I turned sprung it was the redneck watching me up and down.

"Creeper." He squinted at me and the next thing I knew I was laying on the ground, inside a tent. A very familiar one. I sat up and peeled out of it. The sun still shone, everywhere. I saw a small flame and the redneck sitting next to it. I slowly crept out fo the tent and heard a sigh. "You aren't going to get far without me knowing." I didn't reply, the simple fact of not knowing how is why. It had been almost three years since the last time I spoke out loud. "What's your name?" I huffed and crossed my arms at him.

"Daryl!" A voice came towards us and I shot my head over before lunging back into the tent. Daryl talked to the woman, about something. They kept their voices low so it couldn't hear. I searched my pockets rapidly, nothing. He'd completely looted me. I searched the tent for a knife, any sharp object, something. I found an arrow, bright green feathers. I held it up and waited for Daryl to come into the tent.

"Creeper." Daryl's voice sounded the alarm in my ears and I held the arrow up like it would protect me. I trembled with fear. The dead, it doesn't phase me but, the living? It surely does. "What's your name?" I shook my head and he was stunned. "Do you not talk? Can you talk?" I shook my head no again. He grabbed the arrow out of my hand and then took my wrist and brought me outside. He handed me a piece of paper or, something like, and a pen. "Write your name."

Give me my gun and I'll leave, I'll stay the hell away and I won't come back.

"That's not your name." Daryl scowled at me. He looked down and then up.

Y/n. Please. At least my bag.

The letters we're as clear as I could make them. I huffed and dropped the paper. He looked around then made a signal for me to turn around.

"Quit creeping." He threw the bag at my feet the next thing I knew he had taken off towards the house. I dug through the bag and everything was there, the notebook, the stuffed bear, everything. I smiled in relief and I threw the bag over my shoulder then quickly dug around for even the smallest bit of food. I found a bag of what I assumed to be drugs, I dug through it then stopped myself.

He let you live. Just go. Go before someone else finds you.

I took my own advice and took off. I picked up both feet and got moving. I took myself away from the camp. Hopefully, most likely, it would be my last encounter with that crazy group.

***

Authors note

Yes, I did restart the book,story, thing, I'm sorry to those who liked it the other way. I wasn't vibing with it. Thank you for reading.

Stay safe!