#norman reedus

[dovelements]

me next

Norman Reedus: kissing

[agnireed]

[reedusdaily]

[darylsdelts]

How do you think Daryl would react if you told him you caught him staring at your ass and/or cleavage.

If you straight up said: I saw you looking.

You think he’d get defensive? Or apologise?

And I need to know the difference between s2 Daryl n DD Daryl

[stillzombieromance]

I'm literally a slut for this man.

I just KNOW Norman reedus is a kinky Bastard??? LIKE it's so obvious?? Or am I just delusional? Like I need someone to write me a list, theorising on what kinks Norman featus could have just on the fact that he said he had a ductape kink and these Screenshots/photos

[dreaminofdixon]

Six.

The rest of the day dragged on, uneventful as hell, which was a rare gift in this shitshow of a world. I napped hard in my tent, and didn’t crawl out ‘til the group rolled back from town, arms full of scavenged loot. Carol and Lori worked some kind of culinary magic with the haul—canned goods and whatever scraps they could stretch—while Merle and Daryl strutted in with rabbits and squirrels slung over their shoulders. Douche or not, Merle paired up with Daryl like they were a hunting machine, and damn if it didn’t keep us fed. The meat was rich, smoky, a far cry from the cardboard rations we’d been choking down.

I took my bowl from Carol, muttering a quick “thanks,” and retreated to my unofficial perch—a weathered log at the back of camp. Close enough to fake being part of the group, far enough to breathe. No one bugged me much, just the occasional head-check since that store fiasco—how’s your noggin? Another day or two of that, and I’d fade back to my sweet spot: wallflower, unnoticed, unbothered.

“Hey, girl.” Shane’s voice slithered up, and I glanced over, forcing a tight smile—polite, not warm. Manners die hard, even when you’d rather tell someone to fuck off. He plopped down beside me on the log, uninvited, and I swallowed a cringe, keeping my face pleasant.

“How ya feelin’?” he asked, digging into his bowl like we were old pals.

“Not too bad,” I said, measured. “Better than earlier. You?”

“Pretty good, considerin’.” He chewed, eyeing me sidelong. “Wanted to check—feel up for a water run with me tomorrow?”

I shrugged, casual as I could manage. “Yeah, why not? Just filling jugs, right? Might as well pull my weight.”

“Good. Early start, before the heat kicks in.”

“Smart plan.” I took a bite of rabbit—juicy, damn near melting in my mouth, way better than any burger I’d ever choked down. Hunger’s a hell of a spice. Shane kept yapping, and I nodded along, half-listening. “So, how long have you and Rick known each other?” I tossed out, steering it off me. Knowledge is power, and Shane’s a puzzle I don’t trust.

“Middle school, I reckon.” He launched into some nostalgia trip—him and Rick playing superheroes, Rick glued to Superman, Shane all about Batman. “Rick’s the golden boy, huh?” he laughed, and I smirked.

“Fits,” I said, dry. “Superman and Batman—noble and… brooding.”

“Dark and mysterious, you mean,” he teased, winking, and I forced a laugh—short, clipped.

“Sure, that’s it.” Keep it light. Don’t let him see the side-eye.

Dale chucked more wood on the fire, flames licking up just enough to see by without screaming “walker buffet.” Shane rambled a bit longer—cop stories, bravado—and I nodded, picking at my food, ‘til I couldn’t take it. 

“Gonna visit the lady’s tree,” I said, grabbing the toilet paper roll and a tiny lantern. 

Squatting in the woods—another apocalypse perk I never saw coming. The world stinks worse without plumbing, trust me.

When I trudged back, lantern swinging, I caught Daryl’s eyes on me—sharp, fleeting, gone in a blink as he turned back to Carol, muttering something low. My lip snagged between my teeth, and I slipped back to my log, quiet as a ghost. Shane was off with Glenn now, gesturing big about something, and I let my gaze drift—Rick with Lori and Carl, Ed looming over Carol and Sophia, Glenn and Shane, Andrea and Amy, Jim with Dale and T-Dog, Merle and Daryl. Everyone had their crew. 

Me? 

Solo, as always. It stung, sharp and quick, and I hated that it did.

I stood, brushing it off, and rested a hand on Lori’s shoulder. “Gonna lay down, read a bit before I crash.”

“Alright, let us know if you need anything,” Rick said, all steady concern.

“Absolutely, sweetie. Night,” Lori added, soft.

“G’night,” Carl chirped, and I smiled down at him.

“Night, Carl.”

Morning hit like a wrecking ball—nine a.m., already sticky-hot. Shane and I hauled water jugs to his Jeep, and he started in again. 

“So, what’d you do before all this?” he asked, grunting as he hefted a container.

“Network engineering,” I said, wrestling my jug into the back, sweat beading on my forehead. Adjusted my sunglasses, wishing like hell that I could hide behind them more.

“Network engineering?” He hoisted a bigger one, leaning on the Jeep, eyes lingering too long. “What’s that about?”

“You were a deputy, right?” I countered. He nodded, and I went on. “Radios, car computers, office systems—they tied into the state network. I kept that shit running.”

“Some kinda genius, huh?” he said, smirking, and I laughed—sharp, dismissive.

“Hell no. Just know which end of the cable goes where.” Wiped my brow, re-tied my messy bun messier. “That all the jugs?”

“Yep. Ready to roll?”

“Mm-hmm.” Climbed in, and he drove, dust kicking up behind us. 

I braced for it—and there it was. “So, you in a relationship?” he asked, casual but prying.

I snorted. “Nope.” Stared out the window, dodging ghosts of my ex—five years of on-off hell, cheating, forgiving, rinse, repeat. Last breakup stuck, and good riddance—killed any itch for round two.

“Hard to believe,” he pressed, and I shot him a look.

“Believe it.” Flipped it back. “You? Special lady?”

Silence stretched—oops, I forgot. Lori landmine. “Nah,” he said finally. “Had a girl, split a couple months before shit hit.”

“Oh, gotcha.” Blessed quiet fell, awkward as hell, and I savored it ‘til we rolled into camp. We unloaded the jugs, he barked the “boil-water” reminder, and I bailed. “Thanks for the ride. Gonna lay down—headache.”

“Thanks for the help, doll,” he called. 

I cringed—doll?—rolling my eyes as I hunted the Tylenol stash in the first-aid tote.

“You an’ Shane, huh?” Daryl’s voice cut through, low and rough, and I damn near dropped the bandaids, spinning to face him. He was perched on a log, whittling sticks into deadly little spikes—traps, probably, or walker skewers.

“Me and Shane?” I echoed, wary.

“Been hangin’ ‘round,” he said, eyes on his knife, not me.

“Not really.” I dug through the tote, avoiding his vibe. “Just hauled water today ‘cause I’ve been useless lately. Felt like I had to pitch in.”

“Mm.” Nonchalant, but his jaw tightened—barely noticeable unless you’re looking. He’d been like that since the store, when I’d fallen, cracked my head, and nearly became dinner to the undead. I’d been swinging, had taken out one walker and was about to take the other, but he’d stormed in wielding his knife, and hauled me up like I weighed nothing. Since then, he’s been… hovering. Not obvious—just there, watching.

“Could say the same ‘bout you and Carol,” I tossed back, smirking a little.

“Nah.” He shook his head, still carving.

“Mm.” Mimicked him, and he glanced up—blue eyes piercing through that dark fringe, catching mine. 

Gotcha.

“Carol’s married,” he said, flat.

“That the only thing stopping you?” I arched a brow, teasing, testing.

“Stoppin’ me from what?” he shot back, and my face betrayed me—RBF in full force, screaming you know damn well. His lip twitched, that ghost of a smirk, before he dropped his gaze back to the stick.

“Obvious,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes—headache, allergies, take your pick. Always itchy, always a mess.

“You good?” he asked, and I swear there was a flicker of something—concern, maybe—under that gruff.

“Yeah. Just need these.” Snagged the Tylenol, popped two with a swig of water. “Might hit the creek, get out of the heat, sit for a bit.”

“Shouldn’t go alone,” he said, eyes tracking me, steady.

“I’ll live. No shelves to take me out this time.” I smirked, capping the bottle, feeling that warm prickle under his stare.

He shrugged, casual as hell. “Can’t promise Merle won’t sniff ya out. He’s with Rick now, though—should be safe.”

“Good to know.” Gave him a soft smile—cordial, like with Shane, but less forced—and headed for the trees, his gaze lingering like a brand.

****

Shane always kinda rubbed me the wrong way. What about you?

@imadisneyprincessiswear

[ricktator]

[stillzombieromance]

I don't care if they're fictional characters in a fictional universe. I'll spend forever imagining fake scenerios about them, reading and re-reading fanfictions about them, and forever listen to love songs and pretend the song is about them. Thank you very fucking much.

[ti-yuh]

im crying !!! !1!!1!!!!

“He’s so full of himself”

yeah I wish I was too

[dixonslovelylover]

what if I told you I've cried haha

[lisluvstwd]

🖤🤍

[twdxtrevor]

These two are just so cute, I need to see them causing mischief together again . .

[stillzombieromance]

Hello good fucking morning 😍

Yeah so I woke up to this shit on Pinterest???? scuse me?????

[kaayyyys]

no words just this trio.

[reedusdaily]