#still on my twd watch through

[gyroshrike]

A king and his knight? Unwavering in loyalty and unparalleled in humor?? This dynamic was spoon fed to you all and you didn't slurp it up immediately???

[r6eduss]

Girllll what if an imagine where S3! Daryl and y/n are a thing and when Daryl left with his brother, rick and the others were the one who told y/n that he just left and she was so devastated that when daryl eventually came back she treated him coldly then eventually breaking down in front of him because they think it's easy for daryl to leave them

Idk maybe angsty in the beginning then fluffy at the end?? This scenario is stuck in my head for D A Y S 😩

Anws thanks!!

Listen before I go.

•Summary: Daryl leaves with Merle without thinking how it would affect you. (Fem Reader)

•Warnings: 18+, Twd violence, angst, fluff

•Word count: 2.6k

•Setting: The Prison

•A/N: thank you for the request! I’m really sorry if this isn’t what you wanted and you aren’t happy with it 😭 I rewatched a couple episodes to try and make it as accurate as possible to the actual series. also I’m a very strong believer that Daryl would call his partner sweetheart 🤞🏼(I promise I’ve seen all the other requests I’ve gotten!)

Rick, Daryl, and Oscar had set out to rescue Glenn and Maggie, who were being held prisoner in Woodbury. Michonne had accompanied them, serving as their guide through the hostile territory. The operation, however, hadn't gone as smoothly as planned. They had lost Oscar in the chaos, and the Governor had captured Daryl, forcing him into a brutal situation—pitting him against his own brother, Merle.

As the dust settled and the group reconvened, Glenn and Michonne stayed behind to watch over the car while Rick and Maggie went back for Daryl, determined not to leave him behind. Against their better judgment, they returned with more than just Daryl—Merle had tagged along, at Daryl’s insistence. Now, back at the car, an intense discussion was brewing over whether Merle and Michonne should be brought back to the prison.

“The Governor is probably headin’ to the prison righ’ now. Merle knows how he thinks and we could use the muscle,” Daryl’s eyes locking on Rick, his tone resolute. One way or another, he was bringing his brother back.

Tension radiated from Glenn and Maggie. Glenn, still nursing wounds from Merle’s brutal interrogation, was barely containing his anger. Maggie stood close, her face tight with the memory of her own trauma at the hands of the Governor. “He had a gun to our heads! You really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol or Beth?” Glenn's voice shook, both with fury and concern for his family’s safety.

Daryl shot back quickly, defensive. “He ain’t a rapist.” But Glenn was faster. His words were sharp, cutting through Daryl’s protest like a knife. “Well his buddy is.”

Daryl’s face tightened. “They ain’t buddies no more. Not after last night,” he said, growing more frustrated. To him, this was simple—Merle was family. Family was non-negotiable. Why was this even up for debate?

Rick, observing the growing argument, finally stepped in, his voice measured but firm. “There’s no way Merle’s gonna live there without putting everyone at each other’s throats.”

Daryl’s patience was fraying. “So ya gon’ cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?” His irritation was clear. They were even considering taking Michonne—someone they barely knew—while debating his own brother?

The group paused as Maggie spoke up, her voice softer but filled with conviction while gesturing towards Michonne. “She’s in no state to be on her own,” The trauma they'd all just endured weighed heavily on her, and she couldn't understand why Daryl seemed blind to it.

Rick and Daryl exchanged a look. They had their doubts about Michonne, and Rick had voiced that, telling the group that she’s not going back with them. “That’s righ’, we don’t know who she is. But Merle? Merle’s blood.” Daryl threw the statement out like it should end the conversation, as if everyone would automatically agree.

But Glenn’s response was immediate and cold. “No, Merle is your blood. My family is right here. And they’re waiting for us back at the prison.” His words hung in the air, heavy with finality. Maggie nodded in agreement, she wasn’t about to let Merle, of all people, endanger what little they had left.

Rick stepped closer to Daryl, his voice steady, attempting to bridge the growing divide. “And you're part of that family, Daryl. Not him.”

The statement struck Daryl hard. He looked baffled, wounded even. If they considered him family, why wouldn’t they accept his brother? “Man, y’all don’t know.” He shook his head, anger and confusion swirling inside him.

The silence that followed was tense. Everyone stared at Daryl, unsure of what more they could say. In their eyes, the decision was obvious—but for Daryl, it was far from simple. Finally, Daryl exhaled sharply. “Fine. We’ll fend for ourselves.”

The words hung in the air like a threat, and instantly the group erupted in protests. There was panic now, a desperation to keep Daryl from making a stupid decision out of anger. “No him, no me,” Daryl snapped, his voice thick with frustration. He felt cornered, like there was no room for him to protect both his blood and his new family.

Maggie stepped forward, “Daryl, you don’t have to do this.” He looked at her, and for a moment, his hardened expression faltered. “It was always Merle and me before this,” he said quietly, the pain in his voice clear. He was torn, and it was written all over his face.

Glenn, still reeling from everything, asked a question that Daryl forgot to consider in the heat of the moment. “What do you want us to tell Y/N?” It was a simple question, but one that carried so much weight. They both knew it would devastate you.

Daryl hesitated, his gaze dropping. “She’ll understand.” But there was a crack in his voice, a hint of uncertainty, deep down he knew that you in fact wouldn’t understand. The group fell silent, letting the gravity of the moment sink in.

For a long moment, Daryl stood there, chewing on the inside of his lip, torn between his past and his present. Finally, he began moving, heading toward the car. “Say goodbye to your pop for me.” Directing his comment towards Maggie. Rick quickly followed, refusing to let this situation go. “Hey, hey. There’s got to be another way,” he pleaded, knowing how hard this would hit not just Carol but you too.

Daryl paused, his back still to Rick. “Don’t ask me to leave him,” he said, accent thick as ever. “I already did tha’ once.” Arriving at the trunk he begins stuffing supplies into his bag, while telling Rick and them to take care of themselves. He hoists it over his shoulder, glancing one last time at the group, and walking away with Merle.

You stood quietly, arranging your belongings. Your cell had become somewhat of a sanctuary for you, a space to shape, however fragile, into a semblance of back home. You carefully sat down on your bed, deciding that you were going to nap, until you heard a knock, and saw Rick standing just outside. His hands rested against the cracked walls, not wanting to intrude too much. “How are you doing?” he asked, his voice very careful.

You offered a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m okay.” It was silent for a moment, you could tell he had more to say. “Is everything okay?” Rick slowly brought his gaze from your face to the ground, wondering how he could bring the news to you. “Listen.. Daryl’s gone. Left with Merle.”

Your heart lurched violently in your chest, but outwardly, you kept still, trying to keep your breath steady while each inhale felt like swallowing glass. “Is he coming back?” He was coming back right? You two had something special did you not?

Rick’s expression was one of apology, his shoulders heavy with the weight of what he had broke to you. “I don’t know. He told me you’d understand.” Understand? Understand that Daryl had chosen to abandon the love you thought you both had? Without even saying goodbye?

“Okay.” You replied softly, your voice refusing to betray the devastation roaring inside you. You couldn’t fall apart, and especially not in front of Rick.

He lingered for a moment longer, “if you need anything..—“

“I’ll be fine, Rick. Thank you.”

He gave you a solemn nod before stepping back into the hallway, the silence in your cell feeling almost suffocating. You sat frozen for a very long moment, staring at ceiling. Then, like a dam breaking, the tears came, hot and unbidden, blurring your vision as the enormity of it all crashed down on you. You sank onto your bed, your body shaking with silent sobs and your heart aching in ways you hadn’t expected. You’ve always known that Daryl was complicated, guarded.. but why did he leave? Were you not important enough to him? Did you really mean that little? A hundred questions burned in your mind, and none of them had answers.

It felt like an eternity before the next day finally arrived. The night had been restless, your mind circling endlessly around one thing, and that one thing was Daryl. The way he had just stood up and left you behind, it left a pit in your stomach that only deepened with each passing hour. But today, you had bigger problems, problems that made personal heartache seem almost insignificant.

Glenn was gone, in attempts to clear his mind. With Daryl gone and Rick wandering crazy town, he was the next in charge, and right now he had a lot of pent up anger on what the governor did to Maggie. But of course, while he was gone, the Governor had made his move, and it was brutal. His forces stormed the prison with a cold, ruthless efficiency, and everything erupted before you had time to prepare. Axel was the first to fall, a sharp crack of gunfire cutting through the air as he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Carol, who had been standing just beside him, let out a sharp cry of shock. In a heartbeat she ducked behind Axel’s now motionless body, using him as a shield.

Bullets ripped through the air, the deafening sound of gunfire filling the space as you scrambled for cover. You crouched behind the crumbling remains of the prison walls that were near the gate, heart hammering in your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins. You clutched your rifle tightly, hands shaking slightly as you peeked out from behind the wall, eyes scanning for targets.

There. One of the Governor's men was in your line of sight, crouched low, his rifle trained on the courtyard. Without hesitating, you aimed and pulled the trigger. The recoil jolted your body, but you didn't wait to see if you hit your mark. You ducked back behind the wall, the echo of gunfire ringing in your ears. Around you, The group fought just as hard, each of them locked in their own battles.

As you leaned out again, carefully scanning for your target who you hadn’t known already retreated, your eyes fell on Herschel, who was still exposed in the courtyard. Rick, positioned just outside the fences, was also in a precarious situation. At that moment, the Governor and his men launched an assault, sending a car to smash through the courtyard fence. Herschel, crouched in the field with his rifle, began to feel the weight on him as walkers started to flood in from every direction.

The fear was palpable among you, Rick, and especially Maggie as you all dreaded the possibility of losing Herschel. Just as the Governor began to leave, Glenn had returned, driving into the courtyard while Michonne followed the truck, cutting through the walkers that stood in her way. Their intervention was a lifesaver; they quickly rescued Herschel, escorting him into the truck and out of the courtyard, into the safety of the prison gates.

Outside, Rick was struggling to fend off the relentless walkers closing in on him. Just when things seemed dire, a bolt flew through the air, striking the head of the walker attacking Rick. Daryl and Merle had returned, joining forces with Rick to clear the remaining walkers. Daryl and the rest of your family were okay.. and that’s all you needed to know before bolting back toward your cell, trying your best to avoid the archer in the process.

A couple hours later you found yourself sat on your bed, running your fingers absentmindedly over the pages of an old journal you started keeping. Without looking up, you could heard the familiar sound of boots shuffling just outside your cell. Daryl stood awkwardly in the doorway, his hand brushing against the frame of the cell, his shoulders hunched slightly as though the weight of the world rested on them. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, the air between them thick with tension.

"Hey," he muttered finally, his voice gravelly and hesitant.

You looked up at him then, your expression unreadable. Daryl shifted his weight, uncomfortable under your gaze. Without a word, you stood and brushed past him, your shoulder grazing his as you walked out of the cell. Daryl flinched at the contact, his jaw tightening. The cold shoulder hit him harder than any words could have, and as he watched you walk away, he felt the guilt gnawing at his insides.

The distance between you two only grew more unbearable. As the days flew by, you continued to ignore him, feeling as if he didn’t deserve your attention, while Daryl found himself missing the soft touch of your hand, the warmth you brought into his life that no one else ever could. He couldn’t stay away any longer. He needed to fix this.

He found you sitting on the edge of your bed again, scribbling quietly in your journal like yesterday, not looking up when he entered, just blatantly ignoring him.

"Damn it, why’re ya avoidin’ me?" His frustration finally boiled over, his voice harsher than he meant it to be. You paused, setting the journal down slowly before looking up at him with steely eyes, the walls around you finally beginning to crack. "Why did you leave, Daryl?" Your was voice trembling but controlled, laced with anger. "Was it that easy?"

Daryl froze, his usual tough exterior faltering. He wasn’t used to being confronted like this, especially by you. He fidgeted, biting the inside of his lip. "It ain’t like that… Merle— he’s my blood."

"And what am I, Daryl?" You instantly snapped, voice rising higher as your emotions spilled over. "Why was it so easy for you to leave me? You didn’t even say goodbye. Did you not care?" Daryl’s gaze fell to the ground, avoiding yours at all costs. “I wasn’t thinkin’ straight”

Your eyes instantly widened in disbelief and hurt. “You left me here, alone, when I thought we had something! You weren’t even clear headed enough to think about how it would affect me!” Daryl flinched at edge of your voice. “I didn’t know what to do! I was tryin’ to do what I thought was right.”

You stood up abruptly, your anger radiating off you. “What was right?! You think abandoning me without a word is doing what’s right? Why’d you even come back if clearly all you needed was Merle.”

Your words cut deeper than any wound he’d ever taken. He stood there, staring at you, the silence stretching painfully between you both. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I came back 'cause I realized I love ya."

Your heart fluttered at his words, the anger in your eyes softening, though the hurt was still there. For a very long pause you just stared at him, scanning his eyes for any possible doubt for what he just admitted to you. “..Actually?” You really couldn’t believe it, you never thought he’d be the one to say those words first, but he did. All You wanted to do was stay mad, to push him away for making you feel like you didn’t matter, but the vulnerability in his voice stopped you. He again chewed the inside of his lips and nodded slowly to answer your question. "I’m sorry." he mumbled, looking down. He looked like he was about to cry, and in that very moment you just wanted to nurture him.

So without thinking, you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him. Daryl tensed at first, his back stiffening at the unexpected embrace, but after a moment, he slowly relaxed, his arms wrapping around you in return and leaning down into your neck, feeling comfortable and safe.

"I love you too.. but don’t ever leave me again."

Daryl leaned back and pressed a gentle kiss onto your forehead, lingering just for a moment. “I won’t, sweetheart.”

And that was a promise he’d never break. Not for anybody.

@vampiresluv

[dixons-sunshine]

Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: While hanging out with Daryl, an old friend decided to pay you an unexpected visit. Not wanting to cut your visit short, Daryl offers to tag along to the supermarket. You agree, which lead to the funniest but best shopping experience of your life. And the hangout afterwards turned into a night you'd never forget.

Genre: Fluff, some angst (mentions of Daryl's dad and his scars—reader knows about his home life.)

Era: Pre outbreak

Warnings: Swearing, blood (from reader's period), mentions of abuse, mentions of Merle being an asshole to reader and Daryl, allusions to money problems (reader chooses the cheapest foods while in the store and lives in a trailer park), reader's mom is implied to be a single parent.

Word count: 4.6k (this got way longer than I expected)

A/n: Honestly my second favourite story I've written. It's not great, but I loved the concept very much and writing about Daryl before the apocalypse turned out to be so much fun! I definitely need to write more about pre-apocalypse Daryl.

Requests are open for any TWD requests if y'all wanna send any!

Part two

—

“I'm telling you, you're overreacting. How was I supposed to know that it was gonna go flying in your direction?”

“It wasn't even supposed to go flyin' like tha' in the first place. I've been tryin' to teach ya to fish fer months now, but yer hopeless. Stick to buyin' fish from the market fer yer safety and mine.”

You threw one of the pillows on the couch you were sitting on in his direction, trying to look offended but failing miserably due to the burst of laughter falling from your lips. Daryl easily caught the pillow and chuckled, a boyish grin on his face. He flopped down next to you on the couch, keeping the pillow on his lap as he watched you trying to calm your laughter.

“You're mean, you know that? I'm not hopeless, fishing is just hard,” you said with a smile, looking at him through your eyelashes.

The smile you wore and the sparkle in your eyes made Daryl's heart skip a beat. His mouth suddenly felt dry and he felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance between the two of you—and urge he's had for months now—but he refrained, his father's deprecating words about his 'nonexistent' worth echoing in the back of his mind.

Daryl shook the thoughts from his mind and focused back on you, your smile he loved so much still gracing your features. “Nah, it ain't tha' hard,” he replied, resting his arm on the back of the couch.

“Says the fish whisperer,” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest in mock anger, but the huge smile on your face ruined your facade.

Daryl couldn't help the amused laugh that escaped his mouth. “Fish whisperer?” he asked, a crooked smile on his face as he looked at you. “Tha's what yer callin' me?”

“Yeah, you're a fish whisperer. Every time I try to catch a fish, you lean down to the water and tell the fish to be difficult so that I can't catch them and you get the satisfaction of watching me fail. I've got you all figured out, Dixon,” you joked, a teasing grin on your face.

Daryl shook his head at your ‘accusation’ and chuckled. “Ya got me,” he responded. “Sorry ya had to find out like this. The fish and I jus' have this unspoken bond, ya know? They do whatever I tell 'em to.”

“I knew it,” you replied playfully, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Apologise right now.”

“'M sorry,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I'll talk to the fish and get them to go easier on ya.”

“Thank you,” you laughed in playful triumph.

“Yer welcome,” he replied with a shake of his head, the crooked smile still on his face. “Now are we gonna watch tha' movie ya promised or are we jus' gonna go back and forth over your lack of fishin' skills?”

“Yeah, I just gotta use the bathroom really quick. You can pick out a movie in the meantime,” you acknowledged, getting up from the couch once you saw Daryl nod.

You headed into the bathroom of your small trailer home and closed the door, heading towards the toilet to tend to your business. However, as soon as you sat down, you saw blotches of blood on the inside of your underwear. You groaned inwardly at the horrible timing of your period's arrival and reached for the box of tampons you kept located near the toilet. However, as soon as you opened the box, you audibly groaned at the sight of only one tampon remaining. You didn't have any pads either due to your mom having used the last one a week prior, so you'd have to make a run to the store.

You finished your business, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear from the laundry basket you had yet to take back to your room as well as a pair of pants, before going back out to Daryl. He patiently waited for you on the couch, the movie he picked out paused and waiting to be watched. He fiddled with the remote in his hands before looking up at you when he heard your approaching footsteps. He gave you a small smile before frowning, instantly noticing the ashamed look on your face.

“Wha's wrong?” he questioned, getting up from the couch and taking a step towards you.

“Nothing! It's nothing, I just...” you trailed off, unsure how to go about telling Daryl about why you needed to cut the visit short.

“Ya jus' wha'?” he asked anxiously, unnerved by your sudden awkwardness. You were never nervous around him, so the sudden awkwardness baffled him.

“I have to go into town. I need something urgently and it can't really wait. I'm sorry,” you apologized sincerely, your tone holding sadness at the prospect of the visit you had to cut short.

Daryl's heart sank at your words. He enjoyed hanging out with you and really didn't want to go home yet. He was sure his dad wasn't passed out from drinking yet and he didn't want to accidentally set him off into another rage and deeply pay the price for it, so he wanted to wait it out here with you. But now he most likely wouldn't be able to.

“Wha' do ya need?” he asked, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

You hesitated for a moment. You liked Daryl, and not just platonically, either. Despite his rough exterior, he was undeniably sweet, kind, caring, affectionate and so much more. He knew how to make you laugh even if he preferred to be serious most of the time and he always treated you with the utmost respect. But you also knew that both his brother and his father were misogynistic pricks. They didn't know the first thing about women and feminine needs, so they definitely didn't teach Daryl about any of that. You didn't want Daryl to look at you differently or be grossed out by you because of your period. You wouldn't be able to handle that.

“Hey, ya alrigh'?” Daryl asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. His eyebrows were furrowed in a deep frown, his eyes flickering between your eyes in concern.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I'm fine. I just zoned out for a second.”

“Ya didn't answer my question from before. Wha' do ya need in town?” he repeated his question.

You swallowed nervously before sighing. “I'm on my period,” you whispered, heat creeping up to your face. “And I'm out of tampons.”

Realisation struck Daryl like a ton of bricks. “Oh,” he mumbled, awkwardly fiddling with his hands.

In all honesty, Daryl wasn't weirded out by you saying that, but he didn't know how to go about the information you gave him. He only had the tiniest grain of knowledge about women's periods—thanks to the many women his dad brought home—but he knew that freaking out about it wasn't the way to go. You were one of the most important people in the world to him, and by god he would do anything to ensure that you knew that you could go to him whenever you needed anything, even for something like you needing period products.

“Ya want me to give ya a ride to the store?” he asked, completely taking you by surprise.

“No, I don't want to trouble you. I'll just walk,” you declined his offer, nervously hugging yourself in an attempt to appear nonchalant and simultaneously ward off the pain that would soon stab through your lower abdomen.

“I ain't lettin' ya walk, especially this close to dark. God knows what trouble is waitin' if ya set foot outside this trailer park alone. Tha' new motorcycle gang likes to hang 'round here and I dun' want them to get any ideas with ya,” Daryl replied steadfastly, his mind already set on escorting you to the store.

You smiled at Daryl's worry towards you. It was rare to see his softer side, but when you did, you always cherished it. Daryl Dixon truly was unlike any man you've ever met.

“Fine,” you relented, your voice adapting the playful tone from earlier. “You can drive me, but just so you know, I'm taking advantage of your hospitality. I need to buy some groceries anyways, but I never got around to it because it would be too much to carry if I walked.”

Daryl's lips twitched up into a half smile and nodded. “Alrigh',” he agreed. “But yer buyin' me a Coke fer my valiant efforts of simply drivin' ya to the store.”

“Deal,” you laughed lightly, unaware of the effect it had on Daryl. His heart quickened at the sweet sound of your melodic laughter and he had to duck his head to hide the blush that formed on his face.

“Let's go.” He motioned for you to follow him and you obliged after grabbing the grocery list, following him out of your trailer and over to his neighbouring trailer. The two of you quietly made your way over to his beat down truck, a vehicle he was 'graciously' being lent by his older brother. Or as Daryl once told you, Merle simply dropped it off one day after getting his motorcycle and just seemed to forget about its existence. So now the truck unofficially belonged to the younger Dixon brother.

You opened the passenger side of the vehicle and got in, closing the door behind you. Daryl got into the driver's side and started the truck, his eyes glancing around at the wrappers and few empty cigarette boxes that littered the floor. “Sorry 'bout the mess.”

“It's fine,” you reassured him. “It certainly doesn't look worse than my trailer when my mom and I have been too lazy to clean up.”

Daryl quietly nodded and started the drive to the store, pulling out of the trailer park. The drive was mostly spent in silence until about five minutes in when a bunch of motorcycles whirled past the truck in the opposite direction. Daryl visibly stiffened after one particular motorcycle drove past and you frowned, placing your hand on his arm to try and ease his tension. At the unexpected action, Daryl tensed slightly but soon relaxed under your tender touch.

“Who was it? The guy on the motorcycle? You seem to know him,” you questioned, earning a disgruntled sigh in response.

“'S my brother,” he responded after a moment's hesitation. “He's back in town fer a while but I dun' know why. He hasn't bothered to come see me.”

“Merle's back?” you asked, trying to keep the distaste out of your voice, but failing miserably, causing a small smile to fall on Daryl's face.

It was no secret to Daryl that you despised his brother. The few limited interactions you had with the man were enough to fuel your distaste. Merle either made sexual passes at you, insulted you or questioned your intentions with Daryl. When you didn't fall for his advances or insults, he'd take a jab at your friendship with his younger brother, claiming that Daryl was "pussy whipped" and that you were taking advantage of him. Daryl always immediately shut him down, but that never stopped Merle. Each time it took walking back into your trailer to get the man to shut up.

“Yeah,” Daryl confirmed, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I think he joined tha' new motorcycle gang. He's a stupid son of a bitch, my brother. Never learns his lesson, but wha' can I do? He ain't ever gonna listen to me.”

“He's a grown man. He'll hopefully learn from his mistakes,” you started, knowing your words probably weren't much comfort for him right now. “If you want, I can punch some sense into him. I've been wanting to punch him for a while now.”

That seemed to lighten Daryl's mood a bit. His lips twitched into a half smile. “Nah, but thanks fer the kind offer. I'll let ya know if I ever need ya to punch him fer me.”

“Please do. I'll practice and everything,” you joked, playfully punching the air in front of you for added effect, eliciting a small chuckle from him.

“Alrigh', Bruce Lee, we're here,” he laughed quietly, parking the car outside the store.

The two of you got out of the truck and moved to the store. Once inside, Daryl grabbed a shopping cart and leaned his arms on the handle bar, looking at you expectantly. “Where to first, boss lady?”

You giggled and took the grocery list from the back pocket of your jeans, unfolding the paper and starting your list. “We'll come back to the period things later. Let's get the necessities out of the way first.”

Daryl pushed the cart as he followed behind you, walking into one of the grocery aisles. “Tampons ain't a necessity?” he asked, curiously watching you search for the cheapest pasta before adding it to the cart.

You shrugged and walked on, hearing the squeaks from the wheels on the cart following closely behind. “It is, but not before food. I can always improvise or ask one of the neighbour ladies for it, but I don't want to ask for food.”

Daryl nodded, although you couldn't see him. “Yeah, tha's understandable,” he said, his eyes scanning over the products in the aisle.

You continued grabbing things on your list, adding them to the cart. You even grabbed two bags of chips and the Coke you promised Daryl, as well as a drink for yourself. After that, you made your way over to the feminine hygiene section and started looking over the various different choices, searching for your preferred items.

“Wha' the fuck?” you heard Daryl whisper behind you, prompting you to turn around and look at him. You giggled at the sight in front of you; Daryl holding a pack of pads whilst his eyes trailed over the different period products, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What?” you asked with a giggle, gaining Daryl's attention.

“Why the hell do y'all need so many different things fer yer pussy blood?” he asked bluntly, eliciting an amused laugh from you.

“First of all, don't call it pussy blood. That's disgusting. Second of all, it's all about preference. Some women prefer pads, others prefer tampons and other things. And not everyone is the same. Some women have heavier flows and some women need bigger tampons and pads than others,” you explained, amused at the deep frown Daryl wore.

Daryl nodded slowly. “Alrigh',” he started. “But still, it's a lot. Tampons, pads... And wha' the hell is a fuckin' diva cup? Y'all use tha' to make tea fer yer pussies or somethin'?”

“No,” you responded, laughing lightly at the confused man. “I don't know how a diva cup works because I've never used one, but it's for our periods. Like I said, preference. Some women prefer diva cups over pads and tampons.”

Daryl shook his head slightly and turned away from the shelves, focusing his eyes back on you. “Well, ya got whatever pads or tampons ya prefer? Or do ya use somethin' else that wasn't named in yer explanation?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, amused. You grabbed a box of tampons, as well as a box of pads, and added them to the cart. “No, I use pads and tampons, don't worry.”

“Why would I worry?” Daryl asked, pushing the cart as the two of you walked over to pay for the groceries.

“I just meant that you didn't have to worry about there being any more "period product" surprises. I don't think you would've been able to handle it if I told you there was more,” you explained.

“Well... 'S there?” he asked hesitantly, chewing on his lower lip.

“Yeah.”

You walked ahead to the checkout aisle, leaving Daryl baffled behind you. He sped up to catch up to you, and together you started unloading the items.

“This was more than I bargained fer when I offered to come to the store with ya,” Daryl said, handing off items to be scanned.

“I said I would walk,” you replied nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders. “Would've spared you the headache you got from looking at all those different brands and stuff.”

“Nah, I'd take the headache over somethin' happenin' to ya. Walkin' alone ain't safe,” he retorted, giving you a stern look.

“I would've been fine.”

“Maybe, but I wouldn't risk it. Still ain't gonna risk it.”

“Ah, young love,” the lady working at the cash register interrupted, startling both you and Daryl. “You two lovebirds are absolutely adorable.”

Daryl ducked his head in embarrassment, a blush spreading across his face. You could feel your own face flush with heat as well.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, handing the owed amount over to the cashier before moving over to grab a few bags.

Daryl followed your lead and grabbed most of the bags. Together the two of you walked out of the store and over to his truck. You placed the bags in the back of the truck before getting into the passenger side, Daryl getting into the driver's side. He silently started up the vehicle and pulled out of the parking lot, starting the drive back to the trailer park.

“Thank you, by the way,” you said after a few minutes of silence, shifting Daryl's attention to you.

“Fer wha'?” he asked in confusion, shifting his eyes from the road to you and then back again.

“The ride. And for making me laugh. It was nice.”

“My confusion was amusin' to ya?” he asked with a small smile, glancing over to you.

“No, but the things you said were. Especially the thing about the diva cup. Comedy gold right there,” you said with a smile, gaining a quiet chuckle in return.

“Glad I could make ya laugh,” he replied, before a look of realisation crossed his face. “Wait, ain't ya supposed to be in pain? From wha' I know, period's are supposed to hurt.”

At his words, realisation dawned on you. You could suddenly feel a dull ache in your lower abdomen, a telltale sign of a greater pain awaiting you in a few hours. You just hoped that you had some ibuprofen left back at home.

“I'm fine for now,” you reassured him. “The pain's manageable.”

Daryl nodded. The rest of the drive was spent in silence, save for the rumble of the engine and the wind coming through the open windows. You stared outside at the rising moon, the stars starting to light up the approaching night sky. The trailer park soon came into view and Daryl pulled up to your trailer instead of his, putting the vehicle into park. However, instead of getting out, Daryl tensed up as he stared ahead at his trailer.

You followed his line of sight and saw what he was looking at; his father leading a woman into the trailer. His father shut the door behind him, effectively cutting off your line of sight. You turned to Daryl and saw his jaw clenched in anger, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as his mind seemed to be in another place. You doubted that Daryl even remembered you were still in the truck with him.

“You can stay over if you want,” you said quietly, snapping Daryl from his wandering thoughts. “My mom's working the night shift down at the bar. I've got the trailer to myself tonight and I wouldn't mind having some company.”

Daryl hesitated for a moment. “Ya sure? I can go home. Doubt the old man would notice me slippin' in anyway.”

You nodded your head at him. “I'm sure. Come on.”

Daryl followed you from the truck and into your trailer, carrying most of the bags so that you could unlock the door. Once you were inside and he placed the bags down, he silently admired you as you grabbed a bowl to pour the bought chips into.

Daryl appreciated the fact that you never pried. He had told you once about his father and what he did to him because you'd accidentally caught sight of one of the scars on his back. However, instead of pity, you offered him comfort and understanding, telling him that you were there if he ever needed to talk to someone or needed an escape. You never brought up his home life or his scars, and only ever talked about it if he initiated the sensitive conversation first, which was rare. Because of that, Daryl was convinced that you were an angel in human form. You understood him in a way nobody did, and he would forever be grateful for the chance he got to know you.

You could feel Daryl's intense gaze on you and you could feel your face heat up. Daring to be confident for a moment, you glanced up and locked eyes with him. “See something you like?”

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed in agreement, completely capturing you off guard. You inhaled sharply and tried to slow your racing heart.

Daryl inwardly cursed himself. He hadn't meant to let that slip, but he had gotten so lost in his thoughts and admiration of you that he acted before properly thinking. He blushed for what felt like the thousandth time that day and ducked his head, finding the floor very interesting all of a sudden.

“Well,” you started after clearing your throat, grabbing the bowl of chips and the drinks you bought for you both and walking the short distance into the living room, Daryl hot on your tail. “I'm glad you enjoyed the view. It's my "I desperately need to wash my hair" look.”

Daryl chuckled but said nothing. He got comfortable on the couch, sitting beside you as you handed him the Coke you promised him. “Thanks,” he said, nudging his nose up at you in a nod. “How's yer stomach?”

“Surprisingly okay. I guess the pain decided to give me a break for now. I probably won't be so lucky tomorrow, though,” you responded.

You grabbed the remote and hit play on the movie that Daryl had picked out earlier before you went into town, the opening sequence playing loudly. However, about ten minutes into the movie, Daryl took the remote from you and paused it again, confusing you.

“Can I ask ya somethin'?” he asked unexpectedly, his face conveying how nervous he was.

“Of course,” you replied without hesitation, shifting on the couch until your body completely faced him.

“I dun'... I dun' really know how to ask ya this, and I really hope this won't ruin anythin' between us, but I need to know if ya feel the same,” Daryl nervously said, fiddling with his hands in his lap.

“Daryl, what-”

“Nah, let me finish, please. 'S jus'... Yer so perfect to me, y'know tha'? Yer so kind, so carin', so affectionate. Yer basically a ray of sunshine. Yer the complete opposite of me, and ya could spend yer time with someone who deserves ya, but ya choose to hang out with me. Even though 'm damaged goods and I ain't gonna be nothin' more than a dumb, redneck scum, ya always treat me like 'm this fine piece of priceless art or somethin', and I dun' get why. Yer-”

The sudden pressure of your lips against his instantly shut him up. His eyes widened for a moment before he closed them, his hands instinctively going to rest on your waist. The kiss was slow and hesitant, but loving and sweet at the same time. It was perfect and neither of you wanted it to end, but you soon pulled away, looking into Daryl's ocean coloured eyes.

“You're not damaged goods and you're not a dumb, redneck scum. Don't ever say that about yourself again, you hear me?” you told him quietly, your hands gently resting on his cheeks. After he nodded, you continued. “Where's all of this coming from? I'm not complaining at all, but it's kind of unexpected.”

“I've felt this way fer a while now,” he explained, taking one of your hands off of his face and playing with your fingers. “I never said anythin' because I didn't want to scare ya off, but after tha' lady called us 'lovebirds' and ya offered to let me stay over without question after ya saw my expression earlier... I dun' know, I guess I jus' needed to let ya know how I felt. Didn't know if ya'd feel the same, though.”

You smiled at him and leaned forward to press another kiss to his lips, this one more firm and sure than the first one. “I do feel the same,” you confirmed after you pulled away. “I just never thought you'd like me.”

“Guess we both wasted time not sayin' anythin' 'til now, huh?” he asked, giving you a boyish smile.

“Definitely,” you nodded in agreement, a huge smile on your face.

“I guess we have to thank yer time of the month fer this happenin',” Daryl said. “If it didn't start and we didn't go to the store, tha' lady never would've called us 'lovebirds' and we never would've seen my father and tha' woman enterin' the trailer, so ya wouldn't have asked me to stay over. I probably would've gone home by now if we didn't have to go to the store and probably would've never gotten the balls to say anythin'.”

“I never thought I would be this grateful for my period, but I am now,” you said, leaning your forehead against his.

Daryl closed the remaining gap between the two of you, the two of you descending into a slow, hungry kiss. You brought your arms around his neck and his arms encircled around your waist, bringing you closer into his arms. As the two of you got lost in the moment, you didn't hear the trailer door opening, too caught up in each other to hear anything else. However, the clearing of someone's throat startled you, the two of you practically jumping apart.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” your mom asked with a raised eyebrow, her hands on her hips as she looked over the two of you.

You looked over at Daryl, your face flaming with heat at being caught by your mom. Daryl's eyes widened as fear crossed his face, his breathing heavy from your previous actions. You turned your attention back to your mom and sighed.

“Mom, don't freak out. I promise I can explain.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[nhaaauyen]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART IV: TONIGHT, I WALK AWAY

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part V

wc: 7.8k cw: violence, angst, major character death author's note: Honestly I'm starting to get why TWD writers do what they do after writing this chapter... I also apologize for taking so long for this chapter, my classes are starting now so updates will be a bit a slower </3 **also some eastereggs but the sonnet 73 quote I have is mentioned in the scene where Grayson talks about love. It's pretty much the translated modern English definition of the quote! The make a wish dialogue is also from the movie Dangerously Yours (1937), that scene always gets me so I had to include it haha

You drift in and out of consciousness, the world around you a hazy blur of pain and disjointed voices. Through the fog, you catch glimpses of three figures engaged in intense discussion.

Sevika's there, her face etched with worry. Beside her stands a tall, bald gaunt man and a mask covering the lower half of his face. His eyes are sunken, giving him an almost skeletal appearance. The third figure is shorter, with slicked-back dark hair and a prominent scar running down one side of his face, his right eye a striking shade of green.

Their voices filter through your muddled thoughts:

"...low on medical supplies for a procedure like this," the masked man says, his voice muffled and clinical. "There's no sure chance she can make it."

"I'll go to the hospital."

"It’s too dangerous." The scarred man's voice is sharp and skeptical.

"We've been low on supplies for too long," Sevika argues. "It's time we do it now. We cannot lose any more people."

Their words fade as you slip back into darkness, only to resurface again as you're being moved. You have no idea how much time has passed, but you're on some kind of gurney, the ceiling passing by overhead. You try to move, but your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. Glancing down, you see your wrists are handcuffed to the sides of the bed.

Panic surges through you as you realize you're being rolled into what looks like a makeshift operating room. The masked man and the scarred one are there, now wearing blood-stained surgical gowns. You try to fight, to call out, but your body won't cooperate.

The scarred man leans over you, his mismatched eyes boring into yours. "It will be over soon," he says, his voice oddly soothing despite the circumstances. Then he's lowering a gas mask over your face, and the world fades to black.

When you wake again, your mind is clearer, though your body feels like it's been run over by a truck. The scarred man is sitting in a chair beside your bed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Ah, you're awake," he says, leaning forward. "Good. I was beginning to wonder if we'd miscalculated."

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, raw. He holds up a hand, silencing you.  

"No need to strain yourself. I just wanted to... observe you.” He pauses. "It's been a long time since I've had to perform a procedure like that. It’s quite a reminder of what still lurks beyond these walls. How we’ve grown complacent."

Your eyes drift to his face, lingering on the scar that runs down the right side, bisecting his eye. The eye itself is a startling shade of green, almost luminescent against his pale skin. You must have been staring, because the man chuckles, a dry, humorless sound.

"Curious, aren’t you?" A sardonic smile twists his features. "It’s only natural - people always wonder. But few ever ask. It’s a souvenir from when Zaun was still crawling out of the muck. When men I called brothers tried to drag me back down for a piece of land." 

His finger traces the scar slowly, almost lovingly. "This... this was their parting gift." He trails off, then continues in a near-whisper. "Have you ever felt pain so exquisite it becomes transcendent? For days, I danced on the knife's edge between genius and madness."

His gaze refocuses on you, sharp and penetrating. "But pain, you see, can be transformative. It stripped away my naivety, my weakness. It forged me into something stronger, something capable of truly leading Zaun."

“I think I understand why Sevika is so fond of you." His lips curl into something that might be a smile but doesn't reach his eyes. "There's something in you, just like her. That part that's willing to sacrifice."

You furrow your brow, confusion, and wariness warring inside you.

"Some sacrifices are necessary to be made. But they're also weaknesses," He stands, smoothing down his shirt. "Something to consider."

With those cryptic words, he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You're left alone, your mind racing with questions. Who were those men? What exactly happened to you? And how much time had gone by?

The weight of uncertainty presses down on you, and exhaustion soon follows. Despite your churning thoughts, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift into an uneasy sleep.

When you wake again, its by the sound of shuffling feet and the creak of a door opening. The haze of sleep still clings to your mind as you slowly become aware of your surroundings.

Sevika enters, holding a plate of food. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

"Hey," she says finally, her voice softer than you've ever heard it.

"Hey yourself," you reply, unable to keep a slight tremor from your voice.

Sevika sets the plate on your bedside table, then stands awkwardly, as if unsure what to do with her hands. "Thought you might be hungry," she mumbles.

You nod, a thousand questions bubbling up inside you. Where has she been? Why didn't she visit sooner? What happened after the surgery? But looking at her now, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the way she holds herself - tense, guarded - you decide those questions can wait.

Instead, you pat the bed beside you. "Sit with me?"

Sevika hesitates for a moment, then complies. As she settles beside you, you feel the warmth of her presence, so familiar yet somehow changed.

"I missed you," you say simply.

Sevika's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before she schools it back to neutrality. "I... I'm glad you're okay," she replies, her voice gruff but sincere.

As you and Sevika sit together, you try to maintain a casual conversation, but there's an undercurrent of tension you can't ignore. Sevika's responses are clipped, her gaze never quite meeting yours. It's like she's looking through you, not at you.

"Hey," you say softly, reaching out to touch her arm. "What's going on?"

She turns slowly, her eyes finally meeting yours. But there’s something different in them, something that makes your heart clench. It’s infuriating, this distance she’s putting between you, this wall she’s building brick by brick.

“Sevika,” you say, trying to break through that wall. “Talk to me.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Nothing can happen between us again,” she says, the words falling heavy between you like a death sentence.

You stare at her, disbelief mingling with hurt. “What?”

Her gaze flickers, something like pain flashing in her eyes before she steels herself again. “We can’t do this,” she says, her voice low and strained. “We can’t keep pretending this… whatever this is… can last.”

You feel the ground shift beneath you like the world is falling away, leaving you teetering on the edge of a precipice. “You’re really going to say that after everything?” Your voice cracks, the hurt seeping through despite your best efforts to keep it at bay. “How do you kiss someone, make them believe there’s something real, and then just—throw it away?”

Sevika’s jaw clenches, and she looks away, as if unable to bear the sight of your pain. “You can be mad at me, hate me if you want,” she says. “But it has to be this way.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, your heart breaking with every word. “I’m hurt, Sevika. I’m hurt because I care about you, and you’re pushing me away like none of it matters.”

“I know,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s almost lost in the hum of the machines. 

“Then why?” you demand, your voice wavering as you struggle to understand. “Why are you doing this?”

She finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the anguish in her eyes is like a punch to the gut. “Because if I let myself love you,” she says, her voice breaking on the word, “I know we’d never have enough time. ”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, drowning you in the despair that’s been brewing in your chest. “But isn't some time better than none at all? I'd rather have a handful of precious moments with you than spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if.'” The tears you’ve been holding back now streaming down your face. 

“Even if it hurts, even if it's brief – at least it would be real.”

Sevika shakes her head, her expression a storm of anger and fear. Her words come out in a rush, like she can't hold them back any longer.

"You don't understand. I was okay before you. I was okay with the idea of dying, of existing day after day without purpose until my time ran out. But now?" Her voice hardens. "Now I'm terrified. I'm not okay with losing you. I'm not okay with the thought that you could walk out that door and never come back."

“I didn't need this. I didn't need you to come along and give me a reason to call this godforsaken place home. I didn't need you to make me want to survive instead of just exist.”  She’s practically pleading now.  “Don't you see what you've done to me? Needing you means I have something to lose."

The weight of her confession crushes you, the finality of it sinking in. She’s not just pushing you away—she’s tearing herself apart to do it, ripping out the very thing that might make her feel alive, all because she’s so afraid of the pain it could bring.

“I’d shatter every bone in my body again if it meant keeping you safe,” you say, your voice trembling. “I’d do anything for you, Sevika, and it hurts so bad that you won’t let me.”

She turns her head away. “You’re too stubborn,” she whispers, her voice resigned. “You won’t stop, and neither will I, and it’ll kill us both in the end.”

“You look at me like I’m already dead,” you say, your voice cracking with the weight of your grief. “Like I’m a ghost you’ve been carrying around, waiting for the right moment to bury me.”

She flinches, the words cutting deep. “Because that’s what it feels like,” she confesses. “I feel like I’ve already lost you, and it’s killing me. I’d rather lose you now when we still have a chance to walk away than lose you out there, where I can’t protect you.”

The following silence is deafening, the air thick with everything neither of you can bring yourselves to say. You reach out, your hand trembling as you gently caress her cheek, trying to offer comfort in the only way you know how. She leans into your touch for a moment, her eyes closing as if she’s trying to savor it, to hold onto it before it’s gone.

“Are you doing this to protect me, or are you protecting yourself?” you ask softly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline, offering her one last chance to admit the truth.

She opens her eyes, and the pain you see there nearly undoes you. “Both,” she admits. “I’m protecting both of us. I’ll never survive the day I lose you. And I can’t—” Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard, her eyes pleading with you to understand. “I can’t live.”

Your heart shatters as the reality of her words sinks in. She’s already decided, already convinced herself that this is the only way to keep you both safe, even if it means tearing herself apart in the process.

“Can I be alone?” you ask, your voice small and broken, the words barely escaping your lips.

Sevika nods, her expression tightening as she takes a step back. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll go.”

She turns to leave, but before she can take another step, you reach out. “Sevika, wait,” you say, your voice filled with desperation. “Can you hand me my bag?”

She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the bag and then back to you. After a moment, she nods and hands it to you, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments, sending a jolt of longing through you. You rummage through the bag, your heart pounding as you pull out the familiar fabric of her shawl.

You hold it out to her. “This belongs to you.”

Sevika stares at the shawl, her eyes widening as she realizes what it means. For a moment, she just stands there, looking at it like it’s a lifeline she’s too afraid to grasp. Then, she takes it from you.

She looks at you, and in her eyes, you see all the things she wants to say, all the things she’s too scared to admit. And then, without another word, she turns and walks out of the room, the door closing quietly behind her, leaving you alone with nothing but the ghost of her touch and the scent of her shawl lingering in the air.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

You didn’t accept any visitors for days, under the guise that you were too tired and needed the rest to recover. But as tempting as curling in bed and crying over a woman that you never even had a proper relationship with was, you knew you couldn’t hide away forever.

Blinking, you see a group of people piling into your room.

Vander's deep voice rumbles, "Easy now, let's not overwhelm her."

Caitlyn is standing over you. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

Before you can answer, Powder chimes in, "Bet you feel like you've been hit by a truck. Am I right?"

"Something like that," you croak.

Your attention is drawn to the doorway where Grayson stands, little Ren in her arms. The child is clutching Grayson's yellow armband tightly.

Grayson sets Ren down gently. "Go on, little one," she says softly.

Ren doesn't need to be told twice. She rushes to your bedside, her small hands gripping the edge of the mattress. "Miss, are you okay?" she asks, her voice shakes slightly. "Will you be like Sevika?"

The innocence in her question tugs at your heart. You reach out, ignoring the twinge of pain from the movement and the mention of Sevika, to pat her hand. "No, darling," you reply softly. "Sevika is unique. I'll be just fine."

Grayson moves closer, her stern expression softening slightly. "That was brave," she says. "But also very idiotic of you."

You frown at the comment, the words too similar to Sevika’s at the prison.  

Vander's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "You gave us quite a scare," he says. "But you're tough. You'll pull through."

Caitlyn nods in agreement. "We've managed to replenish some of our medical supplies thanks to the hospital mission." she informs you. 

Vi adds with a smirk, "And don't even think about trying to get up and be a hero again anytime soon."

“Yeah… I wouldn’t dream of it,” you respond hoarsely.  

Over the next week, your family comes and goes, their visits being the highlight of your monotonous days.  Grayson usually stopped by with Ren, the two were closer than you expected but Marcus had flitted in and out of Ren’s life so often that Grayson stepped up as a parental figure.  You offered to take care of the kid while you were still bed-bound, and Grayson only reluctantly agreed when you assured her it wouldn’t obstruct your healing process.

You find yourself sitting up in bed, Ren cross-legged beside you. Math worksheets are spread out between you.

"If an apple cost three dollars and you needed to buy five apples, how much would that cost?"

Ren's brow furrows in concentration. "Um... fifteen dollars?"

You beam at her. "That's right! You're getting good at this."

A knock at the door interrupts your math lesson and Vi pokes her head in, her red hair slightly disheveled.

"Hey, time to get moving," she says with a grin.

You turn to Ren, giving her a warm smile. "Let's do this again tomorrow, sweetie?"

Ren nods enthusiastically, gathering her papers. "Alright! Bye-bye, miss! I hope you feel better!"

As Ren scampers out, Vi approaches, offering her arm for support. You wince as you stand, your body still protesting the movement.

“Easy,” she murmurs, her tone softening as she watches your struggle. “Take it slow.”

You grit your teeth, focusing on her voice, on the feel of her arm supporting you. Slowly, you manage a few steps, each one a little less painful than the last. 

“How’s it feel?” Vi asks, keeping pace with you, her gaze never leaving your face.

“Like hell,” you admit with a shaky laugh, though there’s a small sense of victory in the simple act of standing on your own two feet again. “But better than yesterday.”

Vi nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Progress,” she says. “You’re getting stronger.”

As you slowly make your way down the hallway, Vi starts chatting about her day. "You wouldn't believe the shit from yesterday. We were chasing some survivors that tried to steal our shit through an alley, and then Sevika shows up out of nowhere and--" 

The moment the words are out, Vi winces, realizing her mistake too late.  You feel a sharp pang in your chest at the mention of Sevika's name. 

"Uh, anyway, we got the guy in the end.” she says.

“She… was?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Vi looks away, guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s good,” you say, though the words feel like a lie even as they leave your lips. “It’s good that she caught them.”

Vi nods. “I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay. It’s just… I miss her.  It’s stupid, we weren’t anything.”

“I know,” she says. “But it’s not stupid.”

There’s a long silence, the kind that’s filled with all the words neither of you know how to say. “If you didn’t have Caitlyn, would you be okay with all of this? Would you be able to live with everything we do?”

She’s quiet for a moment as she considers your words. “Do I have a choice?” she finally says, her voice tinged with a sadness you’ve rarely heard from her. “I have Powder. I have you, Vander… my family. I’d feel incomplete, sure, but I don’t have a choice. I have to keep going.”

“We’ll keep going, together.” She adds.

“Thanks, Vi.” Despite your gratefulness, her words feel like they’re coming from a distance, muffled by the grief you’re still trying to process. 

Your family helps you through it all, they talk to you about everything and nothing, filling the silence with stories. The days pass, and slowly, you begin to reclaim small pieces of yourself. You walk more, the physical therapy sessions become less of a struggle and more of a routine.

And each night, when the room is quiet and you’re alone with your thoughts, you think of Sevika. It’s not easy. Some days, the weight of it all feels unbearable, like you’re drowning in a sea of what-ifs and lost chances. But you keep going, step by step, knowing that it’s all you can do.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting session, you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling as your thoughts drift. You think about Sevika, about the last time you saw her, the pain in her eyes as she walked away. And you wonder if she feels the same weight, if she’s struggling just as much to move on.

You close your eyes, and for a moment, you imagine her here, standing by your side. And as you drift off to sleep, you could swear you hear her voice, soft and broken, whispering in the dark.

“I failed you.”

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The pantry is filled with the scent of canned goods and the faint rustle of paper bags. You’re focused on stacking cans of beans when your grip falters, and one slips from your fingers.

Before it can hit the ground, a hand darts out and catches it. You look up to see a man with a cocky grin. He’s tall and lean, with slicked-back hair and piercing teal eyes.  You don’t know why, but he looked oddly familiar.

“Well, well,” he drawls. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing down here? Are we that understaffed that we’re making the injured work now?”

You snatch the can back from him. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you reply curtly, setting the can back on the shelf, “but I wanted to do this.”

He chuckles, leaning against the shelf with a casual arrogance. “Looks like supplies are running a bit thin,” he comments slyly, his eyes flicking to the half-empty shelves. “Maybe you should take it easy before you use up what little energy we have left.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your patience wearing thin. “I’m not interested in your opinion.”

Before he can retort, the door to the pantry swings open with a loud creak, and Sevika steps inside. The air changes instantly when her gaze zeroes in on the man. 

“Finn,” she growls. “What are you doing here?”

Finn straightens up and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just making sure our friend here isn’t overworking herself,” he says innocently.

“Get lost,” Sevika snaps. “Now.”

With a lazy shrug, Finn backs off, giving you a final, lingering look before sauntering out of the pantry. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone with Sevika. 

Sevika turns to you. “I was told you’re working here again,” she says, her voice sharp with disapproval. “Are you stupid? You’re barely healed.”

You bristle at her tone. "I needed to do something."

"Yeah, like babysitting Ren," she snaps. “Not this.”

"Why does it matter what I do?" you challenge, your voice rising.

For a moment, Sevika doesn’t answer, but then her eyes widen.

“You’re bleeding.” 

You blink, confused. “What?”

You look down and see a trickle of blood seeping through the bandages on your side. The pain hits you a second later, sharp and burning, but you grit your teeth, refusing to show weakness in front of her.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “I can bandage it myself.”

But Sevika is already moving toward you, her expression darkening with worry. “You’re not going back to your place like this,” she mutters. “Come on. My place is closer.”

Before you can protest, she’s already scooping you up into her arms. The world blurs around you as she carries you through the streets and you’re too shocked to resist.

When you reach her place, she sets you down on the edge of her bed, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before she pulls away.

“Just sit,” she instructs as she moves to grab a first aid kit from a nearby drawer.

“I can do it.” 

Sevika shakes her head, her expression set in a way that leaves no room for argument. “I have experience with this,” she says quietly. “Let me.”

You watch in silence as she works. Her hands, usually so strong and rough, are gentle as they press a fresh bandage against your skin. There’s a tenderness in the way she handles you, in the way she refuses to meet your gaze as she focuses on the wound, that makes your chest ache.

Finally, Sevika finishes. She stands, the distance between you growing once more as she busies herself with putting away the first aid kit, her movements stiff and mechanical.

“Thanks.” You want to leave, not to be any more inconvenient than you already were but Sevika replies before you can say anything.

“You should rest,” she says, her voice flat, devoid of the warmth that was there just moments ago. “Don’t push yourself like that again.”

You reluctantly agree to stay and the tension in Sevika's shoulders eases slightly. She mumbles something about bringing dinner later and leaves you to rest.

Left alone, you take in your surroundings. The room is sparse, almost impersonal. Unlike the chaos in the other rooms, this space feels hollow. There are no personal belongings, no knick-knacks, nothing to suggest that she even uses this bed. It's as if the room itself is holding its breath, existing in a state of perpetual temporariness.

Exhaustion soon overtakes you, and you drift off to sleep. But you soon wake again at the sound of muffled voices.  Through the haze of half-consciousness, you hear one of Sevika's people inviting her to a party, but she declines. 

"Nah, I'm staying in today," you hear her say.

The voices fade, and you slowly wake up, disoriented. You stumble to the doorway of the living room, blinking sleep from your eyes. Sevika is there, dressed in casual clothes – a grey tank top and worn jeans with her hair down, falling in messy waves around her face.  She's cleaning up, a pile of bottles in her arms when she notices you.

"You're awake," she says, startled. "Shit, did I wake you up?"

You shake your head, your voice still rough with sleep. "No, you're good... Do you need help with that?"

"No. Fuck, sit down. What are you doing walking around?"

Still groggy, you comply without argument, sinking into the couch. Sevika dumps the bottles in a bag and turns back to you.

"I'm making dinner," she says, washing her hands at the sink. "You're okay with instant noodles and spam?"

The domesticity of the moment catches you off guard. "Sounds delicious," you manage to say.

Sevika nods and turns to the small kitchenette. You watch her move around the space. It's surreal, seeing her like this – relaxed, casual, making dinner for you both. For a moment, you can almost pretend things are different between you.

Sevika settles on the far arm of the couch next to you, the small distance between you both feeling more like a chasm. 

"Chopsticks or fork?" she asks, holding out both options.

"Chopsticks," you reply, and a ghost of a smile flickers across her face.

"Good choice," she murmurs, handing them to you.

You eat in comfortable silence, stealing glances at her when you think she's not looking. When you finish, Sevika collects the empty bowls.

"Want dessert?"

"Sure," you nod, watching as she retrieves an apple from the kitchen.

She settles back on the arm of the couch, peeling the apple with a small knife. "How's the physical therapy going?" Sevika asks, breaking the silence.

You shrug. "It's... going. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless."

She nods, placing slices onto a plate. "That's good. Don't push yourself too hard."

"Says the woman who never knows when to quit," you tease gently.

A wry smile tugs at her lips. "Do as I say, not as I do."

As you reach for the last slice, Sevika’s hand brushes your cheek. You freeze, the touch unexpected, and you look up at her, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest.

“There’s an eyelash,” she says softly, her voice gentle as she carefully removes it from your face. She holds it up for you to see, the tiny, delicate lash resting on her fingertip. “Make a wish.”

You stare at the eyelash, your mind racing with all the things you could wish for, should wish for. But the words stick in your throat, and you find yourself frozen, unable to think of anything that could possibly fix what’s been broken.

“Did you wish?”

You shake your head slightly, the corners of your mouth turning up in a sad smile. “I... I didn't get the chance.”

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze piercing as she studies you. “And there’s something you wish for?”

“Yes,” You hesitate, the words coming slowly, painfully, like pulling them from some deep, hidden place inside you. “I was wishing… that we were two other people. Two people who didn’t have to say goodbye.”

The silence that follows is thick, charged with the tension of emotions neither of you can afford to express. Sevika’s expression tightens, her jaw clenching as she absorbs your words.

“You know, if you say it out loud, it doesn’t come true,” she says, her voice rough, like she’s fighting against the vulnerability of the moment.

“Do you believe that?” 

She looks down at the eyelash, still resting on her finger, before blowing it away into the air. Her gaze follows it for a moment before she looks back at you. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unmovable, like a finality neither of you can escape. 

“We should sleep,” Sevika says finally. “It’s late.”

You nod, knowing she’s right. There’s nothing more to be said, nothing that can change the way things are. 

“Thank you,” you say softly.

Sevika looks at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nods, just once, and steps back, letting you go. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you echo, your heart heavy as you turn and walk away.

As you reach the end of the hallway, you glance back, just once. Sevika is still standing in the doorway, watching you, her figure framed by the dim light. There’s something in her posture, something in the way she’s holding herself that makes you think she might be wishing too—wishing for something that neither of you can have.

But then she steps back, closing the door behind her, and you’re left standing in the cold, empty hallway, the echoes of what could have been ringing in your ears.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the makeshift shooting range. You and Grayson stand side by side, both of you facing a row of targets at the far end of the field. You’ve been practicing your aim for a while now, but your focus has been off, your shots missing the mark more often than not.

“You haven’t said anything about my shit shot,” you mutter, glancing sideways at Grayson, expecting some form of criticism.

She shrugs, her eyes on the distant targets. "You're injured. Why would I?"

You snort. "Liar. Weeks ago, you'd have torn me apart. What's different now?"

Grayson doesn't answer, instead gesturing to a nearby bench overlooking the community below. You follow her, settling onto the worn wood with a sigh.The elevated view makes the world seem vast and small all at once.

Grayson passes you a canteen, and you take a long drink before speaking again. "You snitched to Sevika about me working."

Grayson raises an eyebrow. "Snitching? Are we ten?"

"She didn't need to know," you mutter, avoiding her gaze.

"You were going hurt yourself," Grayson says softly. "And you needed to see her. For closure, at least."

You fall silent, not wanting to delve into the complicated mess of emotions surrounding Sevika. Instead, you change the subject. "How's Ren?"

“Ren’s sleeping in today. She’s been up late these past few nights, working on that puzzle I gave her.”  Grayson’s face immediately brightens at the mention of Ren.

“She’s got that stubborn streak. Wonder where she gets it.” 

“Must be the company she keeps,” Grayson replies, her voice laced with affection. “Marcus is at the walls today, keeping an eye on things. It’s been quiet, for the most part.”

You nod, your gaze drifting back to the field. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” you muse. “Every day is the same. We do the same things, see the same faces… What makes it worth living?”

Grayson leans back on the bench, her eyes scanning the horizon as she considers her answer. “You make your own reasons,” she says finally, her tone thoughtful. “For me, it’s taking care of Ren. Making sure she has something to hold onto, something good in this world.”

There’s a pause, and you can tell Grayson is choosing her words carefully. “I never thought of myself as the maternal type,” she continues, sounding almost wistful. “But with Ren… It’s different. She’s taught me more about love than I ever knew.  In whatever time I got left here, I want to continue it with her, to see her grow up and prove there’s still something more for us here.”

You feel a pang in your chest, suddenly remembering Sevika and her belief that there would never be enough time for the two of you. But where Grayson found strength in loving deeply despite that, Sevika chose to close herself off, to protect herself from the inevitable pain.

Grayson looks at you, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “Sometimes, the hardest thing is to keep loving, even when you know it won’t last. But that’s what makes it worth it. Knowing that you made the most of the time you had, that you loved fully, even if it hurts in the end.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the truth of them resonating with a painful clarity. 

“It’s hard,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “When you know it’s not going to last.”

Grayson nods, her expression gentle. “It is. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. You have to find your own reason to keep going, to keep loving, even when it seems like everything is falling apart.”

The conversation settles into a quiet lull, the words lingering between you as the sun dips lower in the sky. You take another sip from the flask, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the ache in your chest.

“You’re always looking out for us, making sure we’re okay.” you say after a moment, your voice tinged with admiration. 

“I’m satisfied  – knowing that I’ve done what I can to make this place a little better, to take care of the people who matter.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, the words carrying more weight than you intended. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replies gently. “We’re all in this together. And besides,” she adds with a small, teasing smile, “someone has to keep you in line.”

You chuckle, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere just a bit.

But the peaceful moment on the hill was brief, the tranquility shattered by the sound of rapid footsteps and panicked crying. You and Grayson turn to see Ren running towards you, her face streaked with tears and her small body shaking with sobs.

Grayson immediately drops to her knees, catching Ren in her arms. "What happened, sweetheart?" she asks, her voice calm but laced with urgency.

Ren tries to speak through her tears, her words coming out in broken gasps. "Daddy said... we were going on a trip... but the monsters... they blocked us and he couldn’t close the gate... now they're coming to get us!"

As if on cue, screams erupt from the direction of the community. You and Grayson exchange a quick glance, both reaching for your weapons without hesitation.

Ren clings to Grayson's yellow armband, her eyes wide with terror. "I want to go with you!" she cries.

Grayson cups Ren's face gently, her voice soft but firm. "Darling, listen to me. I will come back, I promise. But right now, you need to get to safety. Can you be brave for me?"

Ren nods, her lower lip trembling. You know without words what needs to be done - get everyone to safety.

You both sprint down the hill, Grayson carrying Ren. As you near the community, the chaos becomes more apparent. Gunshots ring out, mixing with screams of panic and pain. People are running in all directions, fear etched on their faces.

Vi appears beside you, her red hair wild and her eyes blazing. "We're seriously underarmed right now!" she shouts over the noise. "Sevika's crew is out!"

"We have to make do," you yell back, scanning the area. You spot Caitlyn and a few others on the walls, their snipers picking off threats in the distance.

You, Vi, and the handful of armed residents form a protective line, herding panicked civilians towards their homes. "Get inside! Lock your doors!" you shout, your voice hoarse from the effort.

Children cry for their parents, the elderly struggle to move quickly enough. You see a young mother stumble, her baby wailing in her arms. You rush to her side, helping her to her feet and guiding her to safety.

Everywhere you look, there's movement – people running, fighting, falling. 

The air is thick with the stench of death and the deafening cacophony of gunfire. You're shoulder to shoulder with VI, both of you firing relentlessly at the endless wave of walkers. Sweat stings your eyes as you shout, "Vi! On your left!"

She pivots, taking down three walkers in quick succession. But for every one you drop, two more seem to take its place. The situation is rapidly spiraling out of control, and a sinking feeling in your gut tells you you're fighting a losing battle.

But suddenly, powerful headlights cut through the darkness as a convoy of trucks roars onto the scene. Your heart leaps – you'd recognize that cavalry anywhere.

As if materializing from thin air, more trucks appear, effortlessly mowing down walkers and clearing streets. One screeches to a halt in front of you, and then there she is.

A familiar figure vaults from the truck bed – Sevika, her red shawl billowing behind her. She swiftly unslings a shotgun from her back and starts blasting walkers left and right. Her face is composed, every feature carefully controlled, but when her eyes find yours, a fleeting shadow passes over them—a trace of fear and concern.

"You okay?" she shouts over the din, closing the distance between you.

You nod, breathless. "A lot are injured. I don't know, there's too many – I think they're coming from the west gate. Ren said something about Marcus not being able to close it."

Sevika's jaw tightens. She yanks out a radio, barking orders to dispatch teams to the west gate. In seconds, she's handing out weapons, her voice ringing with authority. "Split up! I want a team grabbing as many injured as possible. Anyone bitten, take them out."

As you move to join the fray, Sevika's hand clamps on your arm. "No," she growls. "What the hell are you doing? Get to safety with the others. You're still injured."

"Fine," you concede. "But I'm finding Grayson first."

Sevika gives a curt nod before sprinting back into action. You catch a glimpse of Vi, her red hair unmistakable as she leaps into a truck bed. 

You weave through the chaos, dodging walkers and searching for Grayson. Gunfire echoes off buildings, punctuated by the revving of engines and the sounds of walkers being dispatched. 

A scream to your left – you spin, firing instinctively. A walker drops, inches from a couple. You quickly wave to them to follow and you sprint to the safe house together. Your leg protests, but adrenaline keeps you moving.

Your heart pounds as you finally spot Grayson, but she's going the opposite direction. 

"Grayson!" you shout. "Sevika and her team are here. We need to get everyone to safety!"

She doesn't slow down. "There's someone stuck in a car!"

That's when you see it - a vehicle surrounded by a writhing mass of walkers, their decaying hands clawing at the windows. Inside, you catch a glimpse of a terrified face.

Without hesitation, you sprint after Grayson. The two of you work in tandem, picking off walkers. When you reach the car, Grayson covers you as you wrench the door open. A young boy, no older than seven, practically leaps into her arms.

"We've got to move!" Grayson shouts.

You guys run, the child clinging to her as you lead the way.  You’re clearing the path, and you’re halfway to the safehouse when you hear the dreaded click of an empty chamber.

"I'm out!" you yell.

Grayson turns, her eyes flashing with a decision you can see forming before she even speaks. "Take the kid. Go!"

"Wait, we can make it together!"

She shakes her head, placing the boy into your arms. "Sevika's crew is here, remember? I'll be okay. Get everyone to safety!"

Before you can protest, she's shoving you toward safety, using her body as a shield for the child. You run, every step feeling like a betrayal, but knowing you have to trust her.

You make it to a house, handing off the child to waiting arms. Your lungs burn as you gasp for air, eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of Grayson.

Suddenly, Sevika's there, her face smeared with grime and blood but her eyes alight with fierce triumph. "We closed the gate. Got them all."

Relief floods you for a moment, but then reality crashes back. "Wait, where's Grayson?"

Confusion flickers across Sevika's face, but before she can respond, a heart-wrenching wail cuts through the air. You both rush outside, joining a growing crowd.

The scene that greets you turns your blood to ice. Caitlyn is on the ground, her body wracked with sobs. Vi kneels beside her, arms wrapped around her shaking form. "I couldn't save her," Caitlyn chokes out between gasps. "I couldn't shoot them fast enough."

Her sniper lies discarded in the dirt, and that's when you see her. Grayson.

The world seems to tilt on its axis. You stumble forward, unable to process what you're seeing. Grayson, who was just beside you moments ago. Grayson, who sacrificed herself to save a child. Grayson, whose quiet strength held your community together.

She now lies on the ground, her body wracked with violent coughs, blood staining her lips. Her breaths had grown shallow, each one more of a struggle than the last, and when she reached for Sevika’s hand, you knew what she was asking for. Sevika’s fingers trembled as she grasped Grayson’s hand, and when Grayson whispered, “Do it,” you saw a flash of something break inside Sevika.

She obeyed.

The gunshot echoed in your ears, louder than the chaos around you, but it was the sight of Sevika gently closing Grayson’s eyes that broke you. Sevika had always been unbreakable, she seemed immune to the horrors of this world. But as she knelt beside Grayson, you saw the cracks forming.  She closed Grayson’s eyes, her hand trembling just for a second before she stood up, towering over the body like a stone sentinel. 

You could barely breathe, the grief suffocating you, making it impossible to think about anything other than how many bodies that needs burying tomorrow. How many families would be broken by the news? How many children would cry for family and friends who would never come home? 

“Grayson?” Ren’s voice was barely a whisper, filled with innocence and confusion. The kid was supposed to be inside the safe house but instead, she stood there, eyes wide and uncomprehending, staring at the lifeless form on the ground. “Why is Grayson sleeping? Tell her to wake up… We won, didn’t we?”

You wanted to tell her something—anything—but the words choked in your throat. Ren dropped to her knees beside Grayson, her tiny hands shaking as they touched the cold, lifeless body.

Sevika finally moved, her expression unreadable, her walls up higher than ever. Without a word, she reached into her pocket and pulled out Grayson’s yellow band. She knelt down, her massive frame suddenly so small beside Ren, and gently placed the band in the child’s trembling hands.

Ren looked up at Sevika, eyes full of questions. But before anything could be said, Silco emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity. He was flanked by his men, their faces grim and cold, and at the center of it all was Marcus.

He was barely recognizable—his face a mangled mess of bruises and blood. He was dragged forward, forced to his knees in the dirt where Grayson had fallen. The sight of him brought Sevika to her feet, her fists clenched tight. You could see the battle raging inside her, the desire to end him right then and there, but she held back.

"Look at him," he began, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something trivial. "A man who betrayed the very community that kept him protected him fed and protected. Who left nothing but the ashes of his own cowardice."

He walked slowly around Marcus, like a predator circling its prey. "This is the price of betrayal, the cost of thinking you can stand in the way of what must be done. You all know him," Silco continued, addressing the crowd that had gathered, their eyes fixed on the broken man at his feet. "You know his face, his uniform, his lies. But you must also know this: in a world where there are no second chances, there are no second thoughts."

Silco’s voice grew harder, colder, as he leaned down close to Marcus’s ear. "Your cowardice, your betrayal, a mistake that cost how many lives today? And now, you will pay the price for that."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final, and Marcus’s body shuddered, knowing what was coming. Silco straightened, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Let this be a lesson to all who would think to cross us, to cross me. There is no forgiveness in this world, only retribution."

You don’t know what happened next, because you’re taking Ren into your arms and you’re moving – away from the crowd, away from the punishment that you know her father will face.

Ren clings to you, burying her face in your chest, and you hold her close, wishing you could shield her from all of this. "What’s happening to Daddy?" she asks, her voice muffled by your shirt. "And Grayson?"

You didn’t have an answer. The only thing you could do was hold her tighter, trying to block out the screams, the fire, the blood.

Time passes, the night dragging on in a blur of grief. Inside the house, the silence was deafening. You had scrubbed the blood from Ren’s skin, but it still lingered in the air, the scent of death refusing to leave. Grayson’s face kept flashing before your eyes, her last breath, her last words, the way her body crumpled in Sevika’s arms.

And now, as you stared out the window, you saw them—Silco’s men, forming a straight, omnious line as they marched out into the night. At the center of it all was a giant wooden cross, and tied to it was Marcus. His head hung low, his body limp, but he was still alive.

Your breath caught in your throat when Sevika looked up at the window. For a moment, your eyes locked, and you saw nothing in her gaze but a cold, empty challenge. The Sevika you knew wasn’t there, but replaced by someone who had buried whatever was left of her soul beneath layers of survival and duty. She turns away, breaking the gaze as she climbed into the backseat of a vehicle.  You watch as the trucks disappeared into the night until the only thing you could see was the small form of the cross.

The night presses in around you, heavy with loss, and you wonder if anything would ever feel whole again.

taglist:

@mirconreadzztuff22 @lils-1979 @veoomvroom @schmoni

@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp @cewl-casper @crying-lighting443

@sodavrr @sweet-lover-girl @love-sevikalove @pinkyykisses @glass-apothecary

@mulan-but-gay @lesbnrock @hyuckiesoftie

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#52: The Ring Finger (1.06)

gif cred: @machonnes

We’ve arrived at the TOWL finale. 🥹🥳

And y’all, the way this finale kicks off with that opening scene...🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥. Episode 6 hit the ground running by starting with one of Richonne's greatest moments. I love how in the first episode of TOWL, Rick essentially gave his hand for the marriage. And now in the final episode, Michonne gives her hand in marriage. 🥰

Thanks to this gorgeous wedding ring scene and their parting kiss in the woods, this teaser is top tier. Also, Richonne + candle-lit scenes stayed a blessing to the end 🕯😍...

Sometimes there are scenes that make me want to know exactly who came up with the idea so I can thank them personally. And this right here is one of those scenes. 😋 Whoever’s idea it was to have Rick put the ring on Michonne’s finger while making love surrounded by candles needs a medal lol. 👌🏽🏅

So diving into these finale revelings, I noted that the episode description for The Last Time says “Rick and Michonne have to perform a near impossible miracle” And well, since Richonne is blessed and highly favored of course they pull off a miracle. 😇

The episode begins with Rick saying, “I remember it all. What it was like. Who we were. Who we are now.”

If I’m not mistaken, I don’t think we’d heard Rick say this line before this episode. Like the following sound bites from different characters are all lines previously said throughout the miniseries, but I think this opening line from Rick is new. And it hit me on the rewatch that he’s talking about him and Michonne specifically rather than a broader ‘we’.

Like I interpret this as Rick saying how, after all their years apart, he still remembers everything about the life and the love he and Michonne had before and who they were together. You know that man has an excellent memory. Especially when it comes to Michonne. 😋

And I like that he says ‘who we are now’ because even after all they’ve been through apart, after all the ways they’ve grown and changed, who Rick and Michonne are now is still so compatible and connected. Still soulmates. 😌

Also, the episode after Rick left TWD was called 'Who Are You Now' and I love that years later, this miniseries so beautifully illustrated that who Rick and Michonne are now are still wholly each others.

The first shot as Rick says this is a shot of mountains as the helicopter flies over the terrain. And then I adore that when he says “Who we are now” we get to see Richonne in the now as they lay in this setting that always gives me regal medieval vibes fit for TWD's royal couple. 🤩

gif cred: @nerd4music

Now, I always smile when I think about my first time watching this scene. I knew this episode had an S rating going in but I didn’t know what that would entail since I thought Episode 4 would probably be the last time Richonne had a bedroom scene. And so when they cut to this scene, I remember my eyes immediately focused on what items were left on top of the table because it’s the finale so I thought certainly the stuff on the table was intentionally placed.

But then...my eyes started picking up on some motion going on in the background - and I was gagged. 🫠

I quickly realized that the most important thing going on in this scene is those two lovebirds in the back re-consummating the marriage. 👌🏽

gif cred: @nobleriver

I love everything about this. 🥰 The sensual setting with the abundance of candles. (And I just know it was that true blue romantic Rick that lit all those candles for their special 'wedding night.' 😋)

The rich colors, the lighting, the literal and figurative smokiness coming off this scene, the way the camera slowly glides over the table and inches closer to Richonne fully in their element together. 👩🏽‍🍳💋

gif cred: @nobleriver

After Rick had to watch the memory of Michonne burn away in the premiere, it’s beautiful that in the finale Rick gets to be truly back with Michonne surrounded by the far more romantic and uplifting flames of all those candles. 🕯👌🏽

Whenever I see this scene now, Richonne is all I see. 😋 But the items shown really are intentionally placed and all tell the story of their travels: the noodles, the whiskey, the soda, the map and notes, the CRM uniforms and thread. And the sound bites that play from the characters also tell the story of Richonne’s TOWL journey.

At first, I thought the sound bites were simply recapping the journey, but on rewatch I see they have even more intention in both shaping the story thus far and setting up what's to come in this finale. 

First Michonne says, “My name is Michonne. I lost someone. Years ago.” And in the background it’s so sweet seeing all the caressing going on between Rick and Michonne. Once again, it’s a canon fact that he loves being on top of her. And I love the way they’re holding onto each other and the way he’s tenderly touching her face. 🥹

gif cred: @nobleriver

Then Okafor says, “You both possess something I believe the CRM needs to become what it needs to be.” And while Okafor was originally saying that to Rick and Pearl, the line is reiterated here because it’s Richonne who truly possesses something that can change the CRM for good.

(Side note: Y'all, I must admit it's a true challenge for me to try and write and pay attention to what these characters are saying right now when Richonne is back there like that making me distracted. 😋 I keep having to rewind and refocus.🤭

Like I know we all see the way Rick has Michonne's legs hiked up in the air during this part. These talented actors are very good at selling these scenes, that’s all I gotta say lol) 

gif cred: @nobleriver

Then it’s a bit of an audible jump scare when Jadis says, “People are a resource.” Didn’t quite want to hear a snake at a blissful moment like this lol.

But I'm pretty sure that corpse's line was used because Rick and Michonne are about to protect the people from the people with their plan to expose the CRM higher-ups.

Then we get a palette cleanser from hearing Jadis when we hear the best bestie Nat say, “I know how to build things and I know how to burn things, but it takes more than that at the end of the world.” And the intentionality behind using that line here is definitely because Richonne will end up employing Nat’s techniques to take down the CRM's leaders and also because the concept of building vs. burning was explored throughout the show and led to the answer that sometimes you have to do both. 

As Nat says this, we see Richonne’s backpacks and other things spread out on the ground. The way all their stuff is sprawled out...it seems like the second the mood hit and the candles were lit they threw everything off and got down to business lol.

I like how the most significant items are closest to Richonne’s bed. There’s a bloody sword and ax which feel like they pay homage to some of Richonne’s signature weapons. And I like how the blood on the sword and hatchet just adds to the fact that this stunning love story takes place in an apocalypse of all places, between two apocalyptic all-stars.

Along with the weapons, there’s Rick’s prosthetic, the meaningful iPhone, and the Danger lighter.

And best of all, y’all...there’s the wedding ring. 💍😏

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

As Beale’s voice says, “You tried to escape four times. Why are you here?” Rick slowly grabs the wedding ring, serving as a visual answer to why he’s here - He’s here because of Mrs. Grimes.

And y’all, when I tell you I nearly passed out just seeing that he was slowly grabbing the wedding ring. 🤭 I did not know that this epic love story was going to get this good. #BoundlesslyBlessed.

Along with the visual answer, there's then a verbal answer to why Rick and Michonne are here when Thorne says, “There’s someone you love out there.” I love hearing that play over this visual of Richonne, because truly Rick and Michonne are the one for each other and their love has fueled them to keep going. 

As this is said, Rick proceeds to do the most romantic thing ever when he slowly slides the wedding ring onto Michonne’s ring finger. Just 🫠…our ship is goated for a reason. It just don’t get any better. 👏🏽

gif cred: @msanonships

I love the way Michonne is looking up at him with her hand on his chest and then when she realizes what Rick’s up to she holds up her hand and watches as he puts the ring on her finger all slow and sexy. And Rick is locked in during this moment, honey. 🔥

I adore how honored Rick is to be able to put this ring on Michonne and to be her forever husband and to have her as his wife. She’s Mrs. Grimes...

And I just love that he wanted her to wear the wedding ring for this intimate moment that gives such wedding night vibes. Like there’s something so sacred and majestic about this scene, especially with the lux colors, lush blanket and pillows, and the candlelight glow. 😍

Not only does Rick feel that Michonne deserves the world - he makes it his personal job to give it to her. And he does a damn good job, doesn't he? 👏🏽👏🏽😊

gif cred: @lousolversons

Rick is also very good at making things a moment and this crowning moment very clearly had an affect on Michonne. Because as Rick so tenderly slides his hand down Michonne’s arm and then looks in her eyes, Michonne looks up at her husband like she thinks he is truly the sexiest man on planet earth.

And you know what we always say…Michonne is always right. 😇

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

I love that Michonne’s journey took her from one; looking quite taken by Rick in their pre-canon seasons of TWD.

To two; lying down alone fiddling with Rick's ring on her finger in her final TWD episode. (Which I've always loved that after Rick's season 9 departure, Michonne wore that ring because she knew that who she and Rick were to each other was 100% husband and wife).

To three; now lying down with Rick over her so lovingly placing her wedding ring on her finger. 🙌🏽🥳

Rick always wants Michonne to know, in every way that he can express, how much he loves her. 🥹 And the abundant love Michonne continuously has for Rick is always written so clearly on her face. 🥹

Also, with Rick not having a ring finger himself it feels like placing this wedding ring on Michonne during a moment where they’re this one and interconnected is almost like placing the ring on them. 

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

As they have this eye contact moment that is just chemistry on another level, it’s paired with Michonne’s heartrending line from the masterpiece Episode 4 when she asks Rick, “Do you still love me?” And Rick passionately answers, “Always.”

Those are fitting lines to include because this TOWL journey had Richonne having to navigate what their love looks like now and officially see that they truly have always loved each other and always will.

And now here they are in this beautifully intimate moment, one in every way, letting their undying love just fill the entire atmosphere. 🥰

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

And truly, Rick looks at Michonne like she’s the most beautiful treasure in the world. At this moment, he's looking at her like he’s again thinking “I love you always.” And in all ways. Amen. 👌🏽

I adore how, after he puts the ring on, both Rick and Michonne look like they've somehow managed to fall even deeper in love by the second.

Michonne softly places her ring-clad hand back on Rick's chest and then he leans in as they share another very passionate kiss. And y’all, the only beef I have with this teaser is with that fade-to-black. It comes in too quick lol. 🤭The fade-to-black could’ve waited just a second or two more, because you know some of us be greedy. 😂

But regardless, it’s a great hot-and-heavy kiss and just shows yet again that Rick and Michonne are each other's strongest craving. This whole Richonne ring moment was perfect. 🤩

TOWL really said 'I now pronounce Richonne the hottest husband and wife on television.' 🔥👏🏽

gif cred: @msanonships

Ages ago, I was really eager for Richonne to have rings of their own, and little did I know I’d just have to wait about eight years and then Rick would put a ring on Michonne in a stunning lovemaking scene like this. And once again, it was entirely worth the years-long wait. 😇

I appreciate the way this opening scene just immediately set the tone of how TOWL started as an epic love story and would conclude as an epic love story. What a dream. 👏🏽

And because we’re spoiled, y’all, the teaser doesn’t even end there. 

They then cut to the woods with Rick and Michonne looking like the baddest to ever do it in their black CRM uniforms as they walk forward with the helicopter in the back. Move over Mr. and Mrs. Smith, this is Mr. and Mrs. Grimes on a mission. 🔥

gif cred: @nerd4music

And then as Rick and Michonne walk, they stop and turn to each other and immediately kiss like their life depends on it and I’m always here for it. Like I’ll forever be elated over the fact that there were kisses in every single episode of this 6 episode miniseries, and not just that but most episodes had multiple kissing scenes too. Richonne kissed more in 6 episodes than they did in their four seasons on canon on TWD.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

And truly, not even just from a shipper perspective but from a story perspective, it makes perfect sense for these characters who are madly in love and haven’t been able to express it for over eight years to be kissing all the time like this. Cuz I mean...

And now that they’re back together, of course these soulmates are going to make up for that lost time every chance they get. It's just realistic. 😌👌🏽

So I love that our goated captains came back to make this 6-episode miniseries and said guess how many episodes we can fit kisses into...

All 6, baby. 😋 This particular kiss in the woods is meaningful too because Rick and Michonne are about to part for the first time since agreeing to go home together and you know for magnets going their separate ways isn’t easy or ideal, especially when what they’re parting to do is dangerous.

But I love that because their kisses are communication, this kiss was the two making it so clear to each other that no matter what the CRM tries to do, they are each other's ultimate choice and they’re in it together.

Like I love the reassuring vibe of this passionate kiss and the way Rick holds her face and then the way they stare into each other's eyes afterward and nod, again communicating so much. 🥰 They’re about to reenter the lion's den and this moment just felt like them giving each other the strength to do so. 

gif cred: @nerd4music

And y’all, you know I stay getting distracted by Richonne so I forgot Michonne's voiceover is actually saying something in this scene lol. Lemme go happily rewind a sec. ⏮😋

Okay, so while they share this golden kiss, Michonne gives insight into their plan when she says, “It sounds simple, right? We go in. You get the briefing. I get the dossier she left behind. We bring what we know to the city, then go home. Together.”

As this is said, Michonne holds Rick’s arm until the last second as he turns to go which is sweet. They are really each other's baby, y'all. 🥲And as she watches him, we hear her say, “It’s never that simple.” 

gif cred: @msanonships

I know that this last line is meant to be ominous but one thing I'm grateful for about how TWD & TOWL approached Richonne is that it's not like other relationships and things in the show that have to ultimately end in tragedy. Richonne was built to last and be an actual lasting win for Rick and Michonne in this series, which is why I never feared that the two would split up or die because the love they found with each other is the one thing this franchise allows to be unbreakable and triumphant.

So next, Rick slowly walks up to the gates with his hands up as his voiceover says, “I’m Sergeant Major Rick Grimes. You probably think I’m dead.” I like that line because as we know TOWL was a whole journey of Rick dying and coming back to life through Michonne. So now, for the first time in a long time, it’s Alive Rick rolling up to the CRM. 👌🏽

gif cred: @sowhumpful

Then as the CRM soldiers slowly open the gate for him, the teaser ends with Rick recalling his father's words saying, “He said I didn’t need to be scared. That it was just ‘the burning.’” Then the scene fades to black just like how this teaser started and y’all, I just gotta clap it up for that teaser. That ring moment alone had me overjoyed and then the kiss in the matching uniforms and Rick's fine gait up to the gate was the cherry on top. 👏🏽👏🏽

We were already feasting and the finale was just beginning. I appreciate that since this is ‘the last time,’ this show let Richonne do what they do best one last time and just put their love and chemistry on full display. 👌🏽😌

[lunarnightt]

CARL GRIMES DATING A GOTH GIRL HEADCANON

WARNINGS ―  FLUFF! mentions of blowjobs, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), mommy kink, spoilers for twd, cum eating, edging, dry humping and Carl being overly sensitive. MINORS DON'T INTERACT! CEGAN SHIPERS DON'T INTERACT! CARL AND READER ARE 18+

Tags ―  @hiro--aoki @carlsangel @aurasplanet @smollbean42905

Carl and you started dating when he first came to Alexandria. He was weary of you at first because of how intimidating you looked but eventually, he eased up to you and the two of you became friends and soon boyfriend and girlfriend.

The first time he kisses you, he is so nervous that he straight up kisses you with his teeth. He would get supper embarrassed and you would reassure him afterwards that it's okay and let him try again which he successfully does this time.

He loves holding your hand. It doesn't matter when and where; you two could be sitting at the dinner table, walking down the street together, or whenever you two are reading comics; he has to be holding your hand.

he loves the feeling of your hand in his, he especially loves to rub his thumb over your knuckles and bring your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft chaste kiss to your skin which often makes you a blushing mess.

He also loves painting your nails for you! You have various nail polish colors but the ones you use the most are Blood reds, blacks, dark purples, and blues. So whenever Carl is done working around the wall or helping his dad; he comes straight over to your house and begs and begs for you to let him paint your nails and eventually you give in.

Which looks something like this:

Carl grabs the basket full of nail polish, a smile forming on his lips as he grabs the blood-red nail polish which just so happens to be his favorite color on you. "Give me your hand, pretty girl" he speaks which you gladly comply. as he paints your nails, you often talk about your day which would leads to you complaining and getting mad. "I just wish Aaron would get off my case!" You spoke, moving your body slightly which made Carl raise his head and look at you with a glare whenever he almost messes up. "Jeez, sorry Cowboy" You spoke as you sit straight, watching your boyfriend go right back to contently painting your nails. after your nails dry, the two of you lay in your bed and cuddle, his head on your chest while you run you're fingers through his hair.

Carl loves having his hair played with, especially if you have longer nails. He loves the feeling of your nails scratching against his scalp as his head rests on the top of your breasts, listening to you talk about your day.

He also loves playing with your hair! If you have curly hair, he loves twisting at your curls and then watching them bounce right back to the way it was before but if you have straight hair; he will gladly rack his fingers through your soft locks, admiring the way you have your hair dyed at the moment.

Carl likes to pick out your outfits! He loves styling you because your style is unique! He loves the laces, the silk, and the soft black material of some of your clothes.

What he really loves to see you in is a dress! Which is unconventional for the apocalypse but whenever you wear a dress with your fishnets and big boots; it has him going feral.

He loves your thighs. He loves rubbing them, kissing them, and WORSHIPING them practically. If you are a thicker girl or hell a smaller girl; he loves to place his head between your thighs while you trade your fingers through his hair and he reads his comic book out loud for you to hear.

He also loves it when you do your makeup and often lets you do It on him! When his eye first got shot out, he wouldn't let you do it for a while but eventually, he let you do it and you absolutely loved sitting in his lap and applying dark eyeshadow on his good, still intact eye.

While you are doing his makeup up though, he'll get restless and place his hands on your hips before thrusting his hips forward so he is grinding up against you which leads to you guys dry-humping each other and the makeup being completely forgotten about.

Carl is sensitive, especially when it comes to sexual pleasure. There have been times when he came just from eating you out and rutting his hips against the mattress of the bed you two are lying on. This was no different when you gave him head.

Carl's head was thrown back while your mouth was wrapped around the entire length of his cock. Whimpers and moans left his lips, and his hand dug into your hair as he pushed your head down further. "Yeah... just like that pretty girl" He moaned as his mouth fell agape. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth which told you he was close so you started to bob your head up and down faster which makes his whimpers louder. "F-Fuck baby... I'm close" He moaned and before he knew it, his hot cum was shooting down your throat and you swallowed every bit of it. You pulled your lips away from his cock and look up at him with wide eyes while his thumb reached out and wiped any access cum from the corner of your mouth. "You're so beautiful Angel" He whispered before pulling you up for a sloppy and needy kiss.

Carl also loves eating you out! He loves the feeling of your thighs around his head while the sounds of him sloppily eating you out filled his ears along with your moans. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at it which makes him moan against your pussy.

Which would often look like this:

Carl's head was buried between your thighs, his tongue flattening out against the folds of your pussy before delving his tongue into your already slick folds which causes a gasp and moan to escape your lips. "Oh fuck..." You moaned breathlessly which makes carl moan against your pussy and pull his face away, his mouth covered in your juices. "You like that pretty girl?" He asked before his head dove right down back between your legs and assaulting your heat once more. You moaned and tugged at his hair, your thighs shaking which meant you were close to your orgasm and this made carl moan and rut his hips forward against the mattress.

Carl has a mommy kink. He's ashamed to admit it to anyone besides you because you were the person he figured it out with.

You had been giving him head for the first time and that was when he did it; that was when he let out a whiney sound before muttering mommy under his breath. Was it a shock to both of you? yes. but did you enjoy it nonetheless? yes.

Speaking of kinks, you and Carl are both switches so you are both pretty much open to trying whatever works for the both of you during sex! but 70% of you are the one in the lead because he loves watching you take control.

But let's get one thing clear though; He loves being dominant over you.

His favorite position is doggy; not because it feels great to not only him but to you as well; he loves seeing the way your ass would jiggle and bounce whenever he would thrust his hips forward.

So, Carl is an ass man through and through. You've caught him staring a few times and so has his dad which led to him giving Carl the talk which embarrassed Carl greatly.

Carl also loves your breasts. He loves laying his head on them or burying his face between them. He especially loves coming to you after a long and stressful day, exhaustion present on his face which leads to you without your shirt and bra on and his lips suckling away on your nipple.

This would also shed light on his favorite second position with you; cowgirl.

He loves seeing your tits bounce up and down as you ride him, his hands gripping onto your hips as he thrust his hips upwards into you. It drives him wild. He loves seeing you like that, completely a moaning mess on top of him while his hands are groping and touching your breasts.

But one thing that you love doing with Carl; is edging him. something about watching your boyfriend begging you to come as you ride him made you crazy.

Which could look like:

Carl whimpered as you rocked your hips forward, the need to fill you up with his cum was making him crazy as he was reduced into a moaning mess. "Please, mommy... Please" He begged, his hands gripping your hips as you looked down at him with the most evilst smirk of all time. "I don't think I should pretty boy, mommy's having her fun watching you struggle" You would moan out which made Carl whine. He wanted to thrust up into you so badly and be in charge but he knew you wouldn't let him cum if he did that. "Please Mommy, I've been good" He whimpered and you moaned before biting down on your bottom lip. "Okay... Cum for mommy baby boy" you whispered and that was that.

Now, let's move away from you're sex life.

Carl just didn't love you, he was IN LOVE with you. He saw a future with you, he saw the two of you getting married and someday having kids of your own which excited him even more. The idea of you being his wife in this fucked up world made a smile grow on his face.

He also loved listening to your music despite not being big on heavy metal and alternative rock. The song that reminds him of you the most is Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie which was ironic given the situation the two of you had to endure.

He loved calling you his pretty girl, baby, angel, or sweetheart while you called him pretty boy, cowboy, and sheriff. The first time you ever called him cowboy which was before he started dating you, he knew he was head over heels for you.

Carl walked down the street while pushing Judith in her stroller, the baby babbling incoherent words as she moved her arms around and took in her surroundings. You were running up behind him, a Wolverine comic clutched in your hand as the sound of your boots hitting the gravel pulled him out of his thoughts. "Hey, Sheriff!" You yelled before finally catching up to him, bending over and placing your hands on your knees to catch a breath. "Oh, hey Y/n..." He spoke Shyly, his cheeks turning a soft shade of red as you stood in front of him wearing black lowrise jeans, a black top with lace long sleeves, a cross necklace, and your combat boots. "Here's your comic back. That has to be my favorite Wolverine issue by far" You spoke, handing him the comic book which he gently took from you and slapped the book in the palm of his hand. "No problem Y/n" He spoke, flashing back his iconic smile. "well... See ya around cowboy" You spoke, not wanting to hold him up any further than you already were but when you called him cowboy, he became weak in the knees. "Yeah... see ya" He stuttered on his words before watching you walk away, his eyes trading down to your rear before looking away.

He loved everything about you. not just the good but the bad as well. He couldn't see himself being with anyone but you. <3

A/N ―  AHH! This is my first EVER big writing on Tumblr! Of course, It had to be the first-ever fandom I was part of which was The Walking Dead! I will most more Chandler and Hayden Content soon just like this! Please give a follow and like for more Pookies!!

[daisiesinvienna]

Hi! I live for your writing and i just saw that you write for daryl dixon too??

Could you write a oneshot where daryl and reader were separated after the prison, and when joe and his gang get revenge on rick she’s there instead of michonne?

Reckoning and Restitution

Title: Reckoning and Restitution

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: After you and Daryl were separated during the fall of the prison, Daryl finds himself in a gang he doesn’t want to be in while looking for you. But when Joe and his gang seek revenge on Rick for strangling one of their friends in a bathroom, you get caught in the crossfire.

Warnings: Typical TWD violence, gore, swearing, sexual assault.

Era: Post-Prison, Pre-Terminus

Author’s Note: I had something planned for Billy but I saw this request and couldn’t resist. This is a little dark, but if you watched the scene in the show you should be alright reading this. Also I saw this big ass spider run across my floor while I was writing this and now I can’t find it so i’m gonna go sleep on the couch

The sun had begun to disappear into the horizon, casting long shadows across the cement. 

You allow yourself to admire how the sky briefly turns into a vast, endless, ever-changing canvas of color, then starts to fade. Sunsets like these always make you feel hopeful, reminding you that even though the world had ended, you still have a chance at a happy ending. The sun would always rise and set, always paint the sky those brilliant colors, despite the horrors occurring down on earth. At least for another few billion years. 

The sun slowly sinks down into the horizon, taking with it the last few golden rays of light. Now, as the three of you trudge down the desolate and winding road, the sky slowly fades to black. 

You glance over at Rick, who has his eyes fixated on something up ahead. You follow his gaze, making out the silhouette of an abandoned vehicle not too far down the road, under the branches of a particularly large tree. 

“We’ll camp here for the night,” Rick says as the three of you reach the car. He pries open the car door to inspect the interior for anything of use as you check the perimeter for walkers.

It had certainly been a long day. You and Rick had decided to take your chances and head towards Terminus, thinking you could at least see if anyone from your group had gotten the same idea. But it was far away, and a difficult trip with a kid in tow. Especially when the kid was going through the difficult pre-teen phase.

It was lucky that you had found Rick and Carl after the prison fell. Or they found you, more like. Rick had quite literally drug you from the carnage, because you were so intent on finding Daryl. It took some convincing before you finally followed Rick and Carl away from the prison. You knew that with Daryl’s inhuman tracking skills, he would have no issue finding you. But it had been at least a few weeks, and there was no sign of him. It was an understatement to say you were worried. 

You plop down on the side of the road with a sigh, calculating in your head the days until you would reach Terminus. You had been keeping relaxed and calm by telling yourself firmly that Daryl would be waiting at the gates with that pissed-off look he always seemed to have no matter his mood.

Rick sits down beside you, having set up Carl in the backseat of the old car. He rummages around his pack before pulling out the last two granola bars, holding one out to you. You wave him off, knowing it would be wasted on you and should be saved for Carl.

He doesn’t falter, giving you his signature stern look.

“Take it,” He tells you, and you slowly accept the granola bar. “You’ve barely eaten today.”

You gratefully rip open the plastic packaging and take a bite, knowing he was right. 

“Thanks,” You mumble through a mouthful of food. Rick nods, opening one for himself as he glances towards the car where Carl slept. You know all too well the look of concern etched on his face, though he tries to mask it.

“He’ll be alright,” You state, taking another bite of your granola bar. Rick sighs, averting his gaze from the broken-down car. “He’s a tough kid.”

“I just wish he didn’t have to be,” Rick mutters, staring off into the woods. You nod slowly in agreement, opening your mouth to speak when you hear a stick break under someone’s boot behind the two of you.

Your hand immediately flies to your hip, hungry for the knife you knew was tucked into your belt. But just as you had wrapped your fingers around the hilt, the cool barrel of a gun was pressed against your temple. 

About ten rough-looking men emerge from the woods, all carrying guns and looking eager, like they were excited to see what Santa had brought them for Christmas. They slowly but strategically space themselves out, surrounding you and Rick so you had no escape route. You glance at Rick, to see that he has a gun to his head too, held by a man that had a sick grin on his face.

“Oh dearie me. You fucked up, assholes,” He announces, his voice sending chills down your spine. Your knife is yanked from your belt and flung onto the concrete, and you slowly raise both of your hands into the air, knowing there was no way out. 

“You hear me? You fucked up,” The man holding a gun to Rick’s head says, laughing. He was the clear leader of the gang. “Today’s the day of reckoning, sir. Restitution! A balancing of the whole damn universe! Shit, and I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year’s Eve. Now who’s gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh?” 

You knew that even if you and Rick retaliate at the same time, it would be pointless. Every man in the surrounding area was pointing a gun at the two of you. This wasn’t going to be good.

“10 Mississippi!”

What would happen when he finished counting, you didn’t know. You lock eyes with Rick, and he gave you a look that makes it plain you weren’t to try anything. Not yet, at least.

“9 Mississippi!”

You glance at the car parked a few yards away. One of the men was looking in the window at Carl, waving and grinning maliciously. Carl had woken up, and he looked from the man outside his window to his Dad, who was on his knees with a gun to his head.

“8 Mississippi!”

“Joe!” You hear someone shout. From behind the car, a man cautiously walks out. It was dark, so you can’t quite make out their face, but you could never forget that southern drawl. Your heart skips a beat.

“Hol’ up,” Daryl murmurs, stepping into a patch of moonlight. You stare at him in disbelief. Your eyes meet, and he gives you a look that makes it clear he doesn’t want any of this. His eyes dart from you to the guy behind you, who was still pressing a gun to your temple. You feel a surge of hopefulness. Daryl wouldn’t let this happen.

“You’re stopping me on eight, Daryl,” Joe retorts, raising an annoyed eyebrow at him.

“Just hold up,” Daryl mutters again, clearly looking for a way to stop this without pissing Joe off.

“This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothing to talk about!” Shouts a gruff looking man with a shotgun.

“The thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time. Say your piece, Daryl,” Joe says, gesturing at him with the air of giving him the spotlight.

“These people, you’re gonna let ‘em go. These are good people,” Daryl says softly to Joe, almost pleading. There was a hint of panic in his voice, though his facial expression was determinedly calm. You had never heard him speak this way before.

“Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I’ll of course have to speak for him and all because your friend here, strangled him in a bathroom!” Joe yells.

“You want blood. I get it. Take it from me, man,” Daryl says, throwing his crossbow aside and raising his hands in surrender.

“No!” You shout immediately, scrambling to your feet. “Daryl, No!”

The man behind you roughly yanks you back to the ground. You try to pull yourself from his grasp, but you stop struggling against him when you hear the click of the safety on his gun. The man covers your mouth with his hand.

“Hush up now, bitch. I don’t want to have to shoot you yet,” He says, pressing the barrel to your temple. You instantly feel sick to your stomach.

“You keep your hands off her!” Daryl says firmly, taking a furious step towards the two of you with murder in his eyes, before two guys grab onto his arms and yank him back. 

“This man killed our friend!” Joe laughs, smiling broadly. “You say he’s good people. See, that right there… is a lie.”

“It’s a lie!” Joe repeats triumphantly. This seems to be some sort of code, because to your horror, a good number of the men surrounding you advance on Daryl. 

Daryl swings at the one who reaches him first, knocking him to the ground with one powerful blow. Before he can even turn around, the other men are on him. 

“No!” You shout desperately, watching Daryl try and fend off at least six guys. Daryl was strong, but he was significantly overpowered. “He didn’t do anything! Leave him alone!”

Daryl manages to land a few blows on his attackers, but they soon manage to get him on the ground. 

“Teach ‘em fellas, teach ‘em all the way!” Joe laughs. He then gave the other men a nod, which you soon realize was the ‘go ahead.’

The man holding onto you shove you forward onto the ground, and you hit your head painfully on the concrete. Before you realize what was happening, you are roughly flipped onto your back and the man had crawled on top of you. You hear the sound of the car door opening, and Carl’s yelp as someone drug him out of the car and flung him on the ground.

“You leave him be!” Rick shouts angrily. You could hear the sounds of grunts and fists colliding with flesh somewhere behind you, and knew that Daryl was putting up a hell of a fight.

The man on top of you pins your hands above your head with one of his, and you thrash and shout as you struggle to escape his grip. 

“Yeah, that’s right. It’s so much more fun when you fight it,” The man purrs, smirking down at you as he roughly tore your shirt off, buttons scattering onto the road.

“No! No, stop it! Get- off- me!” You shout, starting to panic as he roughly grabs at your chest.

“Don’tcha fuckin’ touch her!” Daryl yells furiously from behind you, but his shouts are silenced as the men continue to land blow after blow.

“Listen it was me, it was just me!” Rick shouts desperately as Carl’s yelps become louder from next to the car. Tears are streaming down your face as you struggle against the man above you. What did they want with Carl?

“See now that’s right! That’s not some damn lie. We can settle this, we’re reasonable men,” Joe says, sounding genuinely entertained by the sight before him, as if he was watching the ending of a suspenseful movie.

“First we’re gonna beat Daryl to death,” Joe says. It sounds like Daryl’s resisting was starting to slow, but the impact of fists didn’t falter. If anything, they sped up.

“Daryl!” You yell as a last resort, the man starting to fiddle with the button on your cargo pants. You desperately try to free yourself, knowing what was going to happen to you if you didn’t escape. “Daryl!”

The man grabs you roughly by your hair, lifts your head, and hits it hard against the concrete below you. You groan, impossible pain flooding your head. You were too dizzy to struggle, and as your vision faded in an out you fought with all your might to stay conscious. Going unconscious in this situation would be deadly.

“Then we’ll all have the girl,” Joe says as quiet sobs escape you. You hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone.

“Then the boy,” Joe laughs. You could faintly hear the sound of Carl’s cries for help, and someone laughing loudly.

“Then I’m gonna shoot you, and then we’ll be square!” Joe laughs manically, foolishly bending down behind Rick. But his laughter was silenced by the slight inconvenience of Rick breaking his nose with the back of his head. Rick lunged for his gun, and the two started scuffling. The man on top of you didn’t care too much.

“What’s the matter, girl? No more fight left in ya?” He laughs, starting to attempt to pull your cargo pants down, ignoring your quiet begging.

Everyone suddenly turns around in shock to look at Rick and Joe when a horrible scream pierces the air. Then, somebody spat.

You seize the opportunity, and in the moment of silence, you use your remaining strength to knee your distracted attacker in the balls as hard as you possibly could. He shouts in pain, bringing his hand down to hit you across the face, making you see stars. The gunshots ringing through the air drowns out whatever vulgar word he calls you. Rick had gotten his hands on a gun, and you hear multiple bodies drop behind you. Before you know what’s happening, Daryl lunges out of nowhere and tackles your attacker, knocking him off of you.

Daryl got on top of the man, landing blow after blow on his face. He had a look of pure rage his eyes that you’d never seen before. Rick was violently stabbing the man who grabbed Carl. You scramble to your feet, ignoring the dizziness, looking around frantically. Bodies littered the ground. All of the men were dead, except for Joe, who was still choking on his own blood on the pavement.

Daryl finally stops hitting the man, before pulling his knife from his hip and stabbing him through the heart. Rick had long but killed Carl’s attacker, and you hear the body drop. Then there was almost complete silence, only broken by Joe gurgling and spluttering blood onto the pavement and the ringing in your ears.

Daryl turns to look at you, scanning you for injuries. His face is horribly bruised and bloody. When he stands up, Daryl stumbles up to you and immediately pulls you into his arms. You sink into them gratefully, before the tears started.

He holds you close, apologizing over and over again for hundreds of different things as you cry into his chest.

You’ll never admit it, but you were losing hope that you’d ever see him again. He very well could’ve died at the prison and you never would have known. But now as you clung to him, you realize that that was a stupid thing to think. Nothing could kill Daryl Dixon, except Daryl Dixon.

“I never stopped lookin’ for ya,” Daryl murmurs, his voice cracking. You look up at him to see tears streaming down his face. You’d never seen him cry before. “‘M sorry. ‘M so sorry.”

[etclouie]

home

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 summary: he doesn’t do houses, not after living in the woods for so long, but when he sees his girlfriend in their home in one of his shirts he learns to like home. (Daryl Dixon x !fem reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 setting: alexandria era before the saviours 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 warnings: suggestive but no smut, wearing daryls shirt, no specific body descriptions, small mention of teasing(not really), pictures for aesthetics only, lmk if i missed any

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 word count: 656

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 a/n: something about life w/ him 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 twd masterlist | main masterlist

after being on the road for awhile, alexandria seemed skeptical to most of the group at first, especially Daryl. it took a lot to gain Daryl’s trust, you knew that first hand. 

you and Daryl had gotten closer when the group moved into the prison, and eventually started dating before the governor’s attacks. 

his lack of trust deepened after terminus, and his fear of losing you had gone through the roof. so any signs of change and something new had a fear bubbling inside of him, especially when it involved you or any chance of losing you. 

originally when the group got to alexandria, they were given two houses, but over the span of your stay, a third house was gifted and the group had decided on giving it to you and Daryl. 

with the new found personal space, you had managed to coax Daryl into the house, instead of sitting on the porch smoking. easing down his walls, while taking care of him. 

cooking him a hot meal every night he was home, and simply enjoying having him to yourself. he was still on edge, and was always looking to protect you, but with no threat he grew comfortable in your new space together. 

finally having Daryl fully comfortable in your home, and his job for Alexandria keeping him close by and home every night, you took the opportunity to tease him. 

checking the time and smiling to yourself as the clock ticked closer to the time he arrived home every day without fail, standing at the stovetop making him dinner, one of his new favourite meals since moving to Alexandria. 

the sound of the front door pushing open had your smile widening, glancing in the direction of your boyfriend and watching him kick off his boots. the soft padding of his socked feet coming closer and a grunt leaving him as his eyes finally landed on you, wearing only one of his shirts. 

the soft and heavily worn material masking your body, the scent of him mixed with the soft scent of the washing detergent flooded his senses as he moved closer to you. hands sliding under the hem of the shirt to rest on your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles over the material of your panties. 

“think yer funny? wearing my shirt ‘nd nothin’ else?”

his voice was gruff, his big hands pulling you closer against him and his lips pressing kisses across your jaw. wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself, causing his shirt to rise up revealing more of your body to his gaze. his kisses growing bruising, and marks forming across your skin from where he sucked and nipped at the skin. 

“Daryl, the food” 

you had managed to muster out, trying to untangle yourself from his arms to tend to the food you started to make, only for him to pull you back against his chest. his lips meeting yours in a desperate kiss, his right hand leaving your hip to fumble with the stove knobs and turning it off. 

“fuck the food, want ya”

he grit out against your lips, his hand making its way back to your body and groping at your ass cause a gasp to push past your lips. 

clinging to him as he walked you backwards and towards the stairs, lips moving across your neck and throat before reluctantly pulling away to grumble out again. 

“want ta teach ya not to do this dumb shit, teasin’ me for no damn reason”

his hand lifting from your ass to slap at it, turning to make your way upstairs and feeling his gaze on your body as he followed. 

his intentions for the night were clear, and you knew what you you were in for, happily obliging to his plans for you. 

so, maybe he did like having a house with you, a place to call home and to have his fun with you. 

requests are open here !

[holdmytesseract]

would you pls write some daryl x fem!reader where reader opts to join rick and the group at grady. maybe she helped beth&carol. reader is abt 25 ish and was a nurse.

maybe after the saviours fought hilltop, reader got shot by an arrow but carried on fighting next to carol. she calls for daryl when she passes out

Caught in the Headlights

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When you get hit by an arrow, Daryl is seemingly all your brain can think about...

Warnings: TWD things, the Saviors, blood, weapons, fluff, injuries, Daryl being a liiiil' bit ooc?

Set in Season 8/mentions of season 5!

Word Count: 1,3k

a/n: I had to change things up a lil' bit. Hope you, dear nonny, like it anyway! Thank you for requesting! ☺️

Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist °☆• Echoes of Hope Masterlist

"If you wanna come with us... Jus' step forward now," the man stated with a shaky voice; definitely close to crying - but the words never reached your brain. You were too shocked at what just happened; staring with tears in your eyes at the very familiar dead bodies. It didn't have to be this way. It shouldn't have been this way.

Only when you heard the sound of doors and footsteps did you wake up from your stupor. Your eyes lifted; watching as the group who changed your life and especially the view of the Grady Memorial leave.

"Wait!" Your voice echoed across the hallway. Rick - the leader of the group as you learned, stopped in his movements, while the others continued to leave; also shocked by what just happened. Just like everybody.

He turned to face you. You swallowed nervously. "I-I wanna join you. Please? I-I've got nothing left here and... and I wish to help bury Beth." You swallowed hard once again; needing to suppress the tears.

From the first second they had brought Beth in, you tended to her; helped her to get back to health and adjust to the life here at the Grady. Just like you tended to Carol, when she got brought in as well.

You haven't looked back since.

"A-And I'd like to stick with my patient." Your eyes darted to Carol. "She'll need medical care."

Rick listened to your every word, before he started to nod. "I-I offered, so... Come." You stepped forward and followed Rick, but you couldn't help but to turn and look; exchanging a last look with your former 'colleagues'.

Maggie's 'battle cry' catapulted you back to the here and now. Hilltop. The Saviors attack. You swallowed hard and started to fire; shooting as many enemies as somehow possible. Bullets flew all around you; leaving a blood bath behind. From not knowing how to use a gun at all, you had become a very good shot over the months and years.

It looked quite good for Hilltop at the beginning, but then the Saviors started to fire back - with arrows. You quickly duck down behind one of the cars.

"Y/N, you okay?!" You heard Tara's voice call out to you from behind another car. "Yeah, I'm good!" You hollered back through the noises of screams and gunfire. Little did you know that only a few minutes later, you'd have to rephrase that sentence...

You focused again; trying to take down Saviors. Unfortunately, you neither Tara saw the approaching threat... Simon and Dwight sneaking up on - but someone else did...

"Y/N! Tara!" Daryl's voice cut through the air. Tara was luckily able to quickly jump into safety, but for you it was too late. Searing pain shot through your system as Dwight's arrow hit you. You felt how your gun glided out of your hands and your legs gave in underneath you. The last thing you saw was a blurred vision of Tara and Carol; both of your friends hovering over you, before the world around you turned black and the noises deafened.

Faint echoes of voices and different sounds pulled you back in the here and now. Slowly, you blinked your eyes open. Your eyesight was still a bit blurry and the lights of the room were blinding, but once your eyes were able to adjust, you recognised that you were laying inside a cot in a trailer. A blanket was loosely draped over your form. Your muscles felt heavy and stiff, so you decided to move them. But when you tried to shift on the cot, pain shot through your whole body. You hissed; hand immediately moving to your left side and noticing the bandage around your waist.

You remembered... The Saviors. The fight. Dwight shooting you.

"Y/N?" A familiar voice called out for you suddenly. Carol. She stepped in your field of view; crouching down beside you. "Hey, Y/N." You smiled at her. "Hey," you croaked out; causing your friend to instantly hand you a canteen with water and helping you drink.

"How are you feeling?" Smiling, you shrugged your shoulders. "Quite okay for being drilled by an arrow." Carol couldn't suppress the giggle which escaped her lips; shaking her head at you.

After what happened yesterday was your cover most likely blown. You thought having a crush on the archer was your well-kept secret. Seemingly not anymore...

"I didn't do anything weird while I passed out, did I?" Carol gave you a smile, which melted into a mischievous grin and she shook her head once more. "No, you didn't, don't worry. You just called out for Daryl."

Her answer caused you to almost choke on your water; eyes wide in shock. "Uh, wha'? I-I called out for Daryl?" "Yeah, you did. Repeatedly," Carol confirmed; still with that smirk on her lips. "R-Repeatedly?" "Repeatedly." You blushed; feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Does, uh, does he know?" Carol's lips twitched into a smile again. "'Course he knows. I mean... We couldn't leave your request unanswered, could we?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Daryl was here until about half an hour ago. If you would've woken up sooner, you'd have looked at you fairytale prince, not at me."

You blushed even more - if that was physically possible. "No need to be embarrassed. You should talk to him, you know." Your friend giggled and stood up again, "Call if you need anything. Enid should be around somewhere, too." before she left.

Your friend told you to not feel embarrassed, but oh you did. Especially because Daryl knew. God knows what you did during the time he was here and you weren't 'yourself'...

Taking another sip from your canteen, you took a deep breath and this time rolled over to stand up. You needed fresh air - and talk to the archer. No matter what.

So, you left the trailer - still a bit on wobbly feet, but it was okay. You were a nurse after all and knew what you were doing here. Or rather, what you could do and what not.

The daylight felt nice on your skin, without a doubt. You enjoyed the soft breeze in your hair and took another deep breath. Then you started to search for Daryl - not long, though...

He was just passing by the trailer; seemingly on his way somewhere.

"Daryl, hey!" You called out for him; causing the man to stop in his movement to turn and face you. His eyes widened slightly when he saw you. "Hey," he greeted you and stepped closer. "Ya shouldn't be out here, y'know?" You waved a dismissive hand and smiled. "I'm good. I feel better already." Daryl gave you a nod and shook a few wild curls out of his face. "Yeah, but a lil' more rest woulda be good. Lost quite some blood yesterday."

The word 'yesterday' suddenly reminded you why you were here to talk with him.

"I'll get some rest later, yeah? I, uh, I needed some fresh air and... And wanted to talk to you." "Talk ta me? 'Bout wha'?" You swallowed; fumbling your fingers nervously. "About yesterday... Carol told me a-and I know she told you, so, uh... I am sorry." Visible confusion was on Daryl's face. "Sorry? Why 'r ya sorry?" You blinked. "Uh, 'cause it's quite embarrassing."

Then something quite rare happened. Daryl gave you a small, almost mischievous smile. "Embarrassin', huh?" He shook his head and boldly reached out to take your hand. "I'd rather say 's quite cute." The archer squeezed your hand gently, then let go again and walked away.

As for you, you were like frozen; needing to process first what happened. But once you did, you started to smile. "Cute? He thinks I'm cute?" You couldn't help but giggle, as you made your way back inside the trailer.

Tags: @suniloli @stitchintimefan @in-this-minute @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @fuseburner @mandywholock1980 @celtic-crossbow @lou12346789 @mischief-dream @km-ffluv @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @sweetz1919 @erebus-et-eigengrau @marvelcasey05

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 23

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; a tad bit of angst; smidge of illness; all the pregnancy woes in the world; some suggestive dialogue A/N: There's some serious fluff in this. I tried so hard to keep Daryl in character while having him offer all he could to a person doing something precious for him. I hope I succeeded. The explanation of midnight blue is a little bit of self indulgence. It's my own favorite color and the reason why. I know I skipped the nursing home scene but I took the liberty of adding into the timeline somewhere as a mention.

The events of the day before had ended in the most amusing way, with you nearly inviting Carol in before getting dressed.

“She knows what tits and a vagina look like, Daryl.”

“She don’t know what my dick looks like, Y/N!”

“Touche, sir.”

All ended well and Carol saw no genitalia that fine day.

You had officially worn one another out. After the Tylenol and Carol’s snickers and knowing smiles, you and Daryl fell onto the pillows and slept until the next morning. The fever remained, albeit burning less and less hot each time the old man would look him over. His lungs were sounding better. Hershel removed the IV when the archer proved he could keep up with hydrating and promised to take it easy. Of course, he would. He had you as his warden. 

The next evening, after a bowl of hearty stew with the venison you had brought back,—two bowls for Daryl—you laid in bed. He wasn’t complaining, for once, and actually seemed to be close to falling asleep. It had been a relief to watch him eat well, even if he did try to share the second bowl. You were feeling a little nauseated, sharing that knowledge honestly when you turned down his offering. Your condition had definitely improved, the severity of the occurrences much less concerning. Things were actually okay. 

“Daryl?” You licked your suddenly dry lips but continued drawing patterns on his bare chest from your spot against his side with his arm wrapped around you. He hummed, his usual reply, eyes remaining closed while his thumb swept back and forth over your ribs. When you didn’t answer right away, he pulled you a little closer. It was unclear if it was intentional or not.

“What?” He cleared his throat, his voice still gravelly. 

“Can we—I’d like to know more about you.” Your timid request must have snagged his attention because he was shifting your bodies to lie face to face, one hand below his cheek and the other rubbing small circles just over where the baby had finally stopped tap dancing. He was giving you that look, the squinted eyes that scrutinized someone for any indication of dishonesty or hidden agenda. He should know you better than that by now, but you remained quiet.

“Whaddaya wanna know?” He finally queried, his hand going still but remaining where it was.

“Anything. Everything.” You shrugged your available shoulder. “If we’re gonna do this—be an us—then we need to know one another, don’t you think?” He started tapping a finger against your abdomen.

“S’your favorite color?”

You huffed a laugh through your nose, scrunching it with a smile. “Midnight blue. What’s yours?” He pulled a face, curiosity shining through.

“Why midnight?” He asked with a sniff, shuffling around a bit on the pillow.

“Because even though I know it isn’t, I like to think that’s the color of the night sky. Not black, but dark blue and full stars. Black is nothing, it’s lonely, but to think of it as blue. It’s a little more comforting.” The archer gave you a thoughtful look, the corner of his mouth ticking upward so minutely that anyone else would have missed it. Not you. “Now, what’s yours?”

He mimicked your earlier shrug. “Dunno. Don’t really got one, I guess.” Your silence beckoned him to explain. After moving his hand from below his cheek to chew on the side of his thumb, he eventually elaborated. “Grew up learnin’ to ‘preciate all’a ‘em. House was—it was always dark, ‘specially after mama died. When my old man—I spent a lot’a time outside. Noticed things. Blue sky’d turn a bit purple before it’d snow, even if it was just a lil’. Grass—it’d be green but have those brown pieces where I’d walk all’a the time. Creek looked muddy unless ya stood in it. Then ya’d see the bottom an’ how the water’d catch the light. Sometimes it’d be blue, sometimes kinda green. Just depended on the day.” His gaze had dropped away from you at some point, focused on the miniscule area of bed sheets between your bodies.

You were glad for it because your eyes had started to fill and shine. You were granted the opportunity to blink back the tears before he looked up. Daryl was so much more than anyone had given him credit for, than anyone had been willing to learn. Carol had told you a story about an exchange with Andrea, when she had taken a jab at what she thought was his limited vocabulary.

“Get a dictionary. Look it up. Observant.”

“D’ya like dogs or cats?” He asked so suddenly that you nearly flinched, realizing that you had just been staring at some point past his head for an undetermined amount of time. There was no way he hadn’t noticed.

“I like both, but I’m a dog person.” You frowned. Having a dog would probably be something your child would never get to experience. “You?”

“Dogs. Cats ain’t trustworthy.” It was such an amusing thing to say with such a straight face. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wait, I need to hear this.” You caught him staring at your lips, maybe watching you laugh or maybe he wanted to kiss you. Both? You pretended not to notice. 

“Dogs’re smart but cats’re calculated. Make ya think they’re all innocent when they ain’t. Always up to somethin’.”

“What I’m hearing is that you’re afraid of cats.” You smirked, absently reaching to run your fingers through his hair. Daryl made a disgruntled sound and shook his head to stave off your attempts.

“Ain’t afraid’a ‘em. Just don’t trust ‘em.”

“Right.” You nodded, face falling into feigned seriousness before it became real, your next question burning inside your chest, just below the fear you’d need to surpass to ask. He was likely to shut down the session, maybe even close off completely. You could always hope he’d begun to trust you enough to open up, even if only a little, but the prospect suddenly seemed so far away. “Daryl.”

“Ask.” He was looking right into your eyes with a hint of determination you’d seen before when the circumstances were different, dire even. Was that how he saw this? A dire situation that could result in you being gone in some way?

“Who—what happened?” You let a single fingertip press gently against the deepest scar on his chest, your eyes lingering on it for but a moment before you contradicted his intensity with tenderness. Not pity, but a gentle curiosity. A request to allow you to understand.

“My dad—he was never a good man.” He swallowed hard. “Got worse after mama died. She drank. Fell asleep with a smoke, burned up in our house.” His fingers were plucking at the small space between you, a fine tremor in his hand. He pulled it out of your reach when you reached for it. “Didn’t know what to do with us, I guess. Me an’ Merle—my brother.” The brother that Rick had left behind in Atlanta, the brother who was likely dead. Yet another relative your baby would never know. “Merle tried to—he’d take the beatin’ when he could, did his best. Booked it outta there when he couldn't take it no more. Joined the army.” His eyes were wet, but he sniffed and cleared his throat. “Wasn't nothin’ standin’ between me an’ the old man then—between me an’ the belt. The cigarettes.” He fell silent, clearly finished with talking about his parents.

“Tell me about Merle?” You ventured, shot down with a shake of his head against the pillow.

“Ain’t your turn.” He sniffed again. “Your mama—tell me ‘bout your mama.” It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a soft demand; an it’s only fair. You didn’t mind. You’d accepted her abandonment long ago. You had been content with the amazing father with whom you were gifted.

“She booked it. We didn’t have a lot of money, and she never really wanted me in the first place. Tucked tail and ran the first chance she got.” You shrugged, unbothered beyond the twinge of guilt you felt for being so okay with the hand you had been dealt while Daryl struggled to even think about his past. “I didn’t even miss her. I mean, it sucked at first. I always felt bad, watching daddy struggle. So, I learned to help and that was that.”

He was so obviously jealous, yet another emotion that he didn't know how to process. You saw the anger flare before he doused it, returning to a solemn state of silence. He was awaiting your question, wherein you found a dilemma. Did you push through the conversation about his family? Or did you switch to something else, give him a break? 

“Thank you for trusting me.” When you reached for him then, he didn’t pull away. His mask cracked and a few pieces fell away, but he held the rest steady. “That’s enough for now, okay? If you have more questions, I’ll answer them. Gladly. But you’ve shared enough, okay?” When he studied you, you didn’t let him proceed with his usual scrutiny. “It’s fine, Daryl. We can talk more when—if—you ever want to again. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

He accepted the out with a long exhale and a nod, his gaze falling away. You embraced the silence and its discomfort, just touching him while he was in a place to allow it. You stroked his cheek, the stubble thicker than usual with his confinement to the bed. You smoothed his hair, scratched gently over his scalp. Finally, you scooted closer and pulled him toward you to meet in the middle. Tangling your legs around his, you guided his head to rest under your chin. He let you without complaint or denial, a testament to how he had silently endured when he needed comforting.

The two of you laid there, his breaths evening out to the point where you thought he had fallen asleep. Then, breaking the silence, he cleared his throat. “Why me?” You pulled back just enough to angle your head and look at him.

“Why you what?”

“Why ya settlin’ with me? We can raise a kid together without you givin’ up a chance with someone better.” He took a deep breath, keeping his head down. “I won’t hold ya to it if ya change your mind later—if someone shows—”

“There’s no one better.” You nearly snapped at him, your tone harsher than you’d ever meant for it to be. He flinched and you instantly hated yourself for it. You’d seen someone’s quick movements earn that reaction before, but words hardly affected Daryl physically, not like that. “Daryl.” You silently pleaded with him to look at you, but were left disappointed. “There’s no one better.” You repeated, so softly that it was almost a whisper, your breath disturbing his hair. “I want to raise this baby with you. I want to be with you. I love you. That’s not gonna change.”

He simply hummed, the sound reverberating against your throat. You wanted to throttle him, but none of his self-deprecation was his fault. You hated people you didn’t even know for it. “Don’t deserve all this.” Your brow furrowed deeply at his words. “Feel like m’gettin’ somethin’ meant for someone else. Like m’takin’—” The words died on the tip of his tongue. What could you even say to that? You could tell him he deserved the world—the fucking universe—but he’d never believe it. You’d just have to show him. It would take time and patience that would likely be tested over and over, but he was worth it.

“You’ll see.” You settled back against him, let silence fall between you again. After a while, he actually did fall asleep, the tension you had noticed in him finally melting away into a restful state he so desperately needed in order to continue getting well. A kiss was pressed into his hair. You never fell asleep yourself, simply lying there with him. Your heart ached yet it was full. With your fingers traveling up and down his back in gentle motions you hoped were comforting even within his dreams, you told him again. “You’ll see.”

Daryl was coughing strenuously by the time you reached the truck, his hand pressed hard against his chest. The cold air, the rush of grabbing up all the bags, the running from the herd—it was taking its toll on his still healing body.

“Keys.” You demanded. “I’m driving.”  You could see it on his face that he was going to argue, but he doubled over in another fit of coughs and deep, wheezing gasps. Digging in his pocket through the ordeal, he tossed you the keyring. The bags you two were responsible for were tossed into the back next to the bike. It took the archer two attempts to pull himself onto the bench seat, which required the effort of both your bodies to move back in order to accommodate your 30 week bump. Just as your door closed, a discolored hand slapped against the window, startling you into a shout.

The van was already moving when you pressed the gas to peel out behind it, mowing down at least three walkers. Dark blood splattered onto the windshield, smearing but mostly washing away when you used the partially frozen fluid and wipers. Daryl’s forehead was against the dashboard as he fought to catch his breath in the chilled air. You were fumbling for the temperature controls when he smacked your hand away.

“Just—just drive. I got it.” He rasped, the warming air filling the cab a moment later. His back thudded against the seat, shaking it slightly, his head falling back against the headrest with his eyes closed. He was finally sucking in gulps of air into irritated, partially healed lungs. When you reached a point that was safe enough to pull off, you would make sure the group remembered his state of health and didn’t travel for too long before finding anything suitable and safe enough for a stay of at least a few days. “Quit your worryin’, woman. M’good.”

“Just don’t, Daryl.” You argued quietly, desperate to keep the peace between the pair of you that you’d managed to create. “Let me worry. If you don’t fight me on it, I’ll be less likely to do something stupid.” You glanced over, finding his head rolled toward you, his jaw set but he relented with a jerk of his head.

“Fine. Just have ‘em find whatever. S’long as it keeps your ass right here beside me.” 

You smiled and silently celebrated your victory, even as he noticed and grumbled beside you. When you placed your hand, palm up, on the seat between you, only a heartbeat passed before you felt him squeezing your fingers.

Roughly eight weeks left, though Hershel said you could safely deliver if you made it at least four more weeks. You were actually becoming slightly miserable. The nausea would come and go, though you actually vomited less and less. Your ankles were missing completely under the puffy skin. Your belly felt so heavy that even just standing was becoming a chore. Lori was sympathetic, constantly giving you advice. Not only you but Daryl as well. You had seen her whispering to him, watched the way he would go completely still, not looking at her but listening intently. Rick could give him all the advice in the world but Lori’s input was crucial. She knew exactly what you needed.

The archer argued with you less and less, though you could see the restraint it took for him to bite his tongue, sometimes literally. He let you hunt with him because you were restless. Lori had said it was because of the urge to start nesting, which you had found amusing, but Daryl already knew about it because of the damn books he continued to snatch up on runs. Why it frustrated you that he was willing to go that extra mile was beyond your comprehension. Maybe because he knew more about what was going on with your body than you did? You should have been grateful, but all you wanted to do was kick him in the shins.

“Can ya just—nevermind.” He grunted from behind you while the two of you tracked some turkeys. You knew they’d be in the trees for the cold weather so you kept your eyes upward, irritating the hunter when you would nearly trip or run into something. Still, he kept his cool, which was admirable for your hot-headed partner. Daryl didn’t like the term boyfriend, you’d discovered during a brief conversation where you’d found your tongue looser than normal and spilling out questions you’d otherwise never ask. The two of you had settled on being partners, though you didn’t feel it was enough to describe your relationship. He had simply shrugged.

You couldn’t hunt with a gun. He’d all but forbade it. Too loud, would draw walkers. So he found you a bow. Not a crossbow but a traditional one. It didn’t take much practice. You only needed to become familiar with the tension of the string, how far to pull for the trajectory and speed needed. Aiming came naturally.

“Shut up, Daryl. I’m fine.” You snapped, instantly muttering an apology. It was but wasn’t his fault you felt so crappy. It took two to make the baby whose little foot or hand or whatever was always pressing into your ribs. You were just as responsible and tried to remember that even when it was you and not him that felt like absolute shit most of the time. As if the world was hellbent on fucking with you, the toe of your boot found its way beneath an exposed root and you nearly faceplanted. If not for Daryl’s constant observance, you surely would have.

He snagged your bicep, dropping his crossbow to reach across your chest and grip your other shoulder. All you needed was a dislocated shoulder when you were already so beyond miserable. He made sure you stayed on your feet, nearly stumbling himself, but saying nothing when you found his irritated but concerned gaze. The weight of it instantly brought on the sniffling you knew was about to lead to a breakdown.

Over the course of only three weeks, the archer had memorized the signs and adapted, learning how to soothe you even at the expense of his own comfort. He immediately pulled you into his arms as close as he could with your ever-growing belly between you, shushing you and rubbing your back. 

“S’alright. I won’t letcha fall.”

Noble as his intentions were, that only seemed to stir up even more guilt. “I don’t know why I can’t just listen when you tell me I should stay behind! Why do you let me just do whatever I want even when you know it’s the wrong choice?!” You rubbed your wet face against his button up, leaving a dark spot and not for the first time.

“Cause you’re hard-headed an’ feelin’ like crap. Only make ya feel worse for me to argue with ya.”

And just like that, the switch flipped. “I’m not hard-headed, Daryl! I’m fucking capable and everyone wants to treat me like I’m gonna break!” You pushed him away roughly and stomped forward, sniffling harder than necessary. You heard a sigh from behind you, the sound of him picking up his crossbow and before following at a distance.

When you shot down the turkey, even beyond the pride you felt carrying it back, something told you that he saw it first but didn’t even raise his weapon.

Carol had heated some water for you so you could wipe down, feeling like your skin was crawling after being in the woods all day. It was a foreign feeling for the leaves and cool, fresh air to feel like it stuck to your flesh and needed to be scrubbed away. You were a mess. Your body hurt and you constantly needed to pee. You were irritable. You’d want Daryl to fuck you one minute and then shove him away the moment he touched the slick apex of your thighs. You were torturing the poor man who didn’t have a clue how to provide the type of comfort you needed when he couldn’t even process how to overcome his own lack of it growing up.

You didn’t hear him enter the room as you bowed over the small sink in the dusty bathroom, your skin still damp beneath your long sleeved shirt and flannel sleep pants. You had washed your hair to the best of your ability, the wet strands forming a curtain around your face that blocked your view of the door. You didn’t startle when you felt the heat of his body behind you. It was familiar at that point in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl.” You whispered, the syllables of his name coming out as a soft whimper. His hands settled on your hips, fingers flexing nervously.

“S’okay.” He stepped closer and you fully expected to feel his erection press against your ass, but that wasn’t the case. There was only the firm safety of his body, your human security blanket. “Wanna—can I try somethin’?” His voice shook beside your ear but his hands remained steady, digits still squeezing and releasing. Not trusting your voice, you nodded, his exhale warm against your neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t his warm palms sliding beneath your belly and lifting with more gentleness than you were aware a human being could possess. The absence of the weight pulling down was an instant relief, your muscles turning to jello. You leaned back against him and he kept you upright, silently offering you comfort and succor that your body didn’t even know it needed.

“Fuck.” You breathed, eyes fluttering closed and head laying back against his shoulder. The tears came when his lips pressed against your temple, wordlessly expressing his gratitude for what you were enduring. “Thank you.” Your own appreciation trembled over your lips, whether toward the man at your back or a god you weren’t sure you believed in for putting him there.

[zombiigrll]

Hey! I saw you wanted request sooo how about reader, carl, and a couple other people go on a run to get stuff for negan, but on the run a herd comes. They can’t handle the herd so the reader distracts the herd but ends up getting lost. The rest of the group had to leave to avoid the herd and carl is broken up about it. Months pass and carl thinks reader is dead and grieves her until one day she shows back up at alexandria and they reunite!

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BACK FROM THE 'DEAD.' ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader

.ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 2.2K

꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ hurt to comfort, use of y/n, lineup (twd 7x1) mention, blood, gore, zombie apocalypse stuff, swearing, kissing !!

.ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ you had gotten lost protecting your friends from a herd, and everyone thought you had died. that was until you arrived back at alexandria weeks later.

꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ thank you SO MUCH for the request anon! i had so much fun writing this i hope you enjoy!! <3

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"y/n..." a familiar voice called. "wake up.." the voice was soft, and whoever's voice it belonged to was shoving you in an attempt to wake you up.

"mmm." you rolled over and covered the blanket over your head stubbornly.

"my dad says we have to go on a run. we have to get supplies for.. negan."

right. negan.

that got you to move the blanket off of your head and look back at the boy talking to you somberly.

carl was always so gentle with you, despite all that he was going through. he was there in the lineup with you, too. but afterwards, he was more worried how you felt than how he felt.

whenever you'd ask, he'd simply shrug it off, saying he's fine, or he's felt worse.

he brought up a hand to your sleepy face, moving a strand of hair from your face before resting his palm on your jaw.

"i know it sucks." he sighs, but he still smiles at you.

you sit up and rub your eyes, an exhausted groan leaving your mouth. "when do we have to leave?"

"whenever you're ready." he runs his hands through your hair, trying to comfort you.

"alright." you give him a quick kiss before standing up, stretching as you walk over to grab your clothes.

...

you, carl, rick, and aaron were all in a big truck, driving around to find some place that had even the slightest chance of supplies for the saviors. you were quiet the entire time, anxious thinking about the saviors and the lineup. you didn't want anything to happen to anyone in your group again. you'd make sure nothing happened.

carl was always watching you, making sure nothing happened to you. even during the lineup, he shouted when negan pointed his bat toward you. begging for him to stop messing with you. he almost got himself killed, and you weren't going to let that happen again.

"here, stop here." rick says, knocking on the outside of his door through the window.

aaron pulls to the side of the road, in front of an outdoor shopping outlet.

you hop out of the car, grabbing your backpack as you exit and you put it around to droop off of your shoulder. carl follows, getting out of the car right after.

aaron and rick walk steadily in front as the two of you trail behind them.

carl nudges your shoulder slightly, looking at you with a worried expression. "you doing alright?"

you nod, licking your lips in thought. "i'm doing good. are you doing alright?"

"it doesn't matter how i'm doing-"

"yes, it does, carl." you look at him, a serious expression plastered on your face. "don't keep brushing the question off. how are you doing?"

"...best i can in our situation." carl laughs, a bit awkwardly, surprised by your seriousness.

you look forward, continuing to walk. "you can talk to me, y'know."

carl looks at you confused as he catches back up to you. "sorry?"

"you can talk to me. it doesn't always have to be how i'm doing, what i'm going through. you're going through things, too."

carl silently nods, continuing to walk.

the four of you stop in front of two stores.

"you two can check out this side, me an' aaron will check out the other." rick points to you and carl, gesturing for you two to check the right side.

you and carl nod at each other and begin walking into the right side, looking at all the stores.

"which store do we check first?" you ask carl, looking around.

"here, this one." carl begins walking into a store, and you follow quickly behind.

you begin rummaging through the shelves, grabbing anything useful you can find. you huff loudly shaking your head. "this is stupid. this should be our stuff."

"i agree." carl nods, clearly equally as annoyed as you. "grab some things for yourself. we can hide them somewhere outside the walls."

you look up with a smile, immediately grabbing things more eagerly. carl laughs a bit at your reaction. how easy it is to make you happy, even on bad days like this.

the two of you finished up quickly in the store and began walking around, looking at all the different shops. there weren't many on your guys' side that were worth looking. there were lots of game shops, book stores.. things you guys would have to make time for on a separate run.

"do you think we're ready to go check in with rick?" you ask as you zip up your backpack, slinging it back over your shoulder.

"yeah, i think we got everything we can get over here." carl walks over to your side, grabbing your hand and interlocking your guys fingers together, smiling at you.

the two of you start making your way back over to the left side of the shopping center, looking around for aaron and rick.

but then, you heard growls. loud growls. and lots of them.

you look around for where the sound is coming from, but aaron and rick quickly run out of a store.

"do you two hear that?" aaron asks as he looks around.

"yes, where is it coming from?" you look around frantically with him, but then you spot something behind him.

walkers. a herd of them.

you point behind them and they look over. you pull out your gun quickly.

"they're right next to the car, we won't make it." rick shakes his head, pointing his gun to the walkers.

you look at them, then over at carl. his eyes were wide and he had his gun up, too, shaking.

you walk forward a bit, looking further into the herd. "...i'll distract them."

"what?!" carl whisper-yells, looking at you like you were insane. "fuck no. you're not-"

"i love you carl." you grab his face and give him a quick kiss. "i'm not letting you guys die. not like this."

you start running, gun in hand pointing to the herd and shooting at them.

"please, wait- y/n!" carl yells, but you're too far away for him to catch up.

you pull out your knife and begin stabbing the walkers close to you, their rotten blood splattering onto your clothes.

they were surrounding you, but you slashed at them as fast as you could, occasionally pulling your gun out to shoot them.

"no, no!" you hear carl yell. you turn your head and see rick pulling him into the car.

he was crying.

when you paused to turn around, you noticed that the walkers stopped paying attention to you. and when you looked down, you noticed you covered- drenched- in blood. you knew that most of it was walker blood, but you were worried some of it could be yours, too.

you didn't have any idea on where to go. you were stuck, letting the walkers roam past you. and the car was already long gone by now.

so, you pretended to be a walker. it was insane, but it worked. you walked back to the mall and quickly shoved yourself into one of the stores.

"oh, god.." you cried, setting the back of your head on the wall and dragging yourself down along it.

you looked down at your bloodstained hands. you were trembling. you were experiencing a fear you had never felt before.

"am i bit?" you spoke to yourself, rolling your sleeves up and trying to wipe away the blood on your arms, despite your hands being covered in blood. you checked your waist, legs, arms, everything. no bites.

you sighed in relief, a hand on your heart as you caught your breath.

...

it had been weeks. you couldn't find alexandria, your memory of the way back getting lost somewhere in your panic from that herd. but you were still looking, determined to find alexandria. to find carl.

your hair was longer, your eyes were darker, you were dirty. you were lucky to have your backpack and that whole mall for the first couple of weeks.

but now, you were somewhere in the woods, aimlessly looking around for alexandria. despite the fact that everyone there had probably thought you were long gone, including carl. i mean, who survives being in the middle of a herd? you didn't think you would.

you were probably slowly going insane, all of the days without any social interaction were catching up to you. you'd frequently catch yourself dozing off, saying things to yourself trying to keep yourself stable.

but then, for the first time in forever, you heard a voice. it wasn't super familiar, but you recognized it. they were next to the road you saw that laid right next to the woods you were walking in.

you stepped out of the woods, and you instantly spotted michonne.

"who's there?" michonne called out, taking her sword out and pointing it towards you. you put your hands up as you step further out so she can see you. "...y/n?"

her voice went soft as she dropped her sword. she ran over to you, hugging you tightly.

"michonne.." your voice was hoarse after not speaking for weeks, but she could tell it was you.

"i thought you were dead.. everyone thought you were dead." she put her hands on your shoulders comfortingly.

"i thought i was, too." you laughed, tears forming in your eyes. "is.. is carl okay?"

"yes, he's okay." michonne nodded. "he's been talking about you a lot. he really misses you."

"how far is alexandria?" you asked with a smile. "i really need to see carl."

"it's back over this way. i haven't been walking long. i'll go ahead of you and get carl, you can surprise him." michonne smiles, picking up her sword and putting it back as she speaks.

"okay.." you nod. "what should i even say? am i just going to be like 'hey carl, i'm back from the 'dead,' sorry i made you grieve even thought i'm alive!' ..what if he's mad?"

"he'd never get mad at you. you know that." michonne pats your back. "alexandria is a straight shot this way. take some time to prepare yourself, i'll be on the other side with carl when you're ready."

you nod and wave. right as she walks back, you sit down on the concreate road.

was this real? was all of this really happening? in the slim chance of you coming back, it actually happened.

you looked through your backpack quickly, remembering that you had a ton of comics that you and carl read when you guys were little. you pulled them out and put your backpack on again, walking in the direction of alexandria, bracing yourself for whatever will happen.

michonne was right, it wasn't too far from where you had met her. you must've been walking for just around 5 minutes when you found the place. you looked up at the watch tower, spotting a figure with a very familiar sheriffs hat on top.

you stood in front of the gate, and the person in the watch tower yelled. "who are you?"

you were sure now that it was carl.

you raised your hands, unsure what to say. you knew he wouldn't recognize you, your clothes different and your hair messy.. you looked up from the corner of your eye and noticed michonne tapping his shoulder, and him disappearing.

the gates opened in front of you, and you saw carl and michonne standing there.

carl looked confused, that was until you looked up.

"hi." you muttered nervously.

"holy shit."

he ran up to you, bringing you into a hug that pushed you two to the ground, his hat falling down next to him.

you returned it, sobbing into his chest.

"i'm so... sorry.." you cried, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

he rested his head in the crook of your neck. "no, no.. don't be." his voice broke, making it clear he was crying with you. "i.. i love you, y/n. so much. i.. you're really here? you're alive?" he put his hands on your shoulders, quickly moving them up to your face, examining your features to make sure it was you.

"yes.." you smiled, tears flowing down your cheeks as you brought your hands up to his. "i'm real. i'm alive.."

he starts laughing, causing a few more tears to slip out of his eye. "how the hell did you survive being in the middle of a herd..?"

"i.. looked back at the car and i saw you. by then, i was covered in walker blood. somehow, my body stopping and smelling like walker guts made them confuse me with a walker... so i played along." you rubbed your thumb along carls hand as you nervously spoke.

he looked at you with a saddened expression, his brows furrowing as he takes you back into his arms. he lifts you up with him, grabbing his hat as he stands up and placing it back on top of his head. he looks down at you and smiles.

"i love you so much." he cries.

you had never really seen him cry before. not like this. he was being genuine.

"i love you so much, too." you cried with him, looking into his eyes happily.

you were happy. he was happy. despite everything, you were in each others arms finally, holding one another. you were supposed to be dead, but you lived. finally... with the only person you ever wanted to be with.

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[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,818

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Reader pronouns: she/her

Era: the Whisperers

Warnings: language (lots of swearing always haha), typical TWD violence

Summary: Daryl finds himself in a tight spot in the woods when walkers are suddenly behaving in ways they shouldn't.

A/N: This is the first part of a news series! Thanks for joining me on another new adventure.

“How was it?” Carol asked, catching sight of Daryl as he came in.

The archer shrugged. “Got somethin’. Deer. Ain’t much. Was pretty scrawny, but better than nothin’. Dropped it off at the pantry,” he drawled. He hesitated and she saw it immediately.

“What is it?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

Daryl shook his head and shrugged again. “I dunno. S’weird. I felt like somethin’ was watchin’ me out there some of the time.”

She leaned heavily on the counter, a tight frown growing on her face. “Something?”

“Or someone maybe,” Daryl said with a shrug.

The worry lines on her forehead deepened. “Well, did you see any sign of anybody out there? How close were you to here, to Hilltop?”

Daryl hauled his crossbow off his shoulder and shrugged. “I didn’t see shit. And I was a ways off but not far enough. Close enough that if somebody is out there, they’d probably stumble their way here eventually. Made sure nobody could follow me back but—” He chewed on his bottom lip anxiously. “I dunno.”

Carol looked worried and her eyes drifted to Henry where he stood with Alden and Earl, already starting his blacksmith training.

Daryl reflexively reached for his knife in its sheath, meaning to check the sharpness of the blade. He swore when his hand grasped at air. “Fuck!” he growled.

“What is it?” Carol asked.

Daryl sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, annoyed. “I must have left my knife out there… Prob’ly set it down after I gutted the damn deer. There were walkers comin’ and I was in a hurry.” He sighed heavily again. “Shit. I’ll go back for it tomorrow. See what else I can see out there. I can’t shake the damn feeling somethin’ was out there.”

Carol nodded, her brow still furrowed.

“Ya heard anything from Michonne? How’re the kids?” Daryl asked.

Carol’s expression dropped. “Haven’t heard. We’re still… not talking. She’s keeping Alexandria closed off.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hums, swinging his crossbow back up on his shoulder. He was about to go on, but Tara, Jesus, and Aaron come running up. They exchange greetings and hugs before Daryl excuses himself to find some place to crash with Dog for the night.

Carol puts her arm around Henry’s shoulder as they watch him wander toward the barn. “I guess he’s not so bad,” Henry comments. “Henry!” Carol scolds him, but she can’t help laughing a little herself.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning Daryl woke early like usual, plagued by the same old restlessness that never seemed to have a cause or a cure. He wanted his damn knife back, and that nagging feeling was still bothering him, like a tickle at the back of his brain, some itch he couldn’t reach to scratch. That feeling he had been watched the day before. He assembled his gear, grabbed a spare knife, and set off beyond the walls of Hilltop and back into the woods, retracing his route from the day before.

It was easy to retrace his steps. Even if he hadn’t known the woods like the back of his hand by then after his six years of wandering, the circle of vultures and noisy cawing of ravens squabbling over the gut scraps of the carcass drew him. He prepared himself in case there were walkers feeding too. He found the gut pile easily and started to search the ground nearby for his knife. He felt through the leaf litter and kicked over sticks and through nearby bramble but his search was initially fruitless. Did the damn thing sprout legs? What the hell… It wasn’t until he stood up in frustration and really scanned his surroundings that the glint of something silver caught his eye.

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as they landed on the metallic object. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and stood on end. He found himself carefully surveying the entirety of his surroundings again, straining his hearing for any sound of movement, squinting into the shadows cast by the large trees overhead. He cautiously approached the nearby tree trunk, watching where he placed his feet, waiting for someone to pounce like this was a trap and he was the mouse going for the cheese.

His knife was hanging from an arrow shot into the trunk of a huge oak, dangling from a leather strap. Daryl carefully slid it off and inspected it. It looked just as it had the day before, except for the addition of the makeshift loop in order to hang it from the arrow. Oh—and it had been sharpened? The blade was honed to perfection. And the arrow was something else… He grabbed and pulled on the shaft, but the head broke off and remained buried deeply in the tree. He could tell, however, that it had been handmade. The fletching was of stiff, black, glossy feathers with a slightly iridescent sheen. He spun the shaft between his fingers and watched the way the light shone on them, shifting from plum to emerald to shining sapphire blue and then back to deep night. He glanced over his shoulder, frozen, listening.

He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but he knew one thing for certain now; he wasn’t imagining that feeling of being watched. But who was watching and why would they bother to hang a found knife in case its owner returned? Most people would have considered it a good find and kept it for themselves. He maintained it religiously as a rule. It was in perfect condition. Not that he was complaining… but it seemed fucking peculiar.

As he turned toward home, a raven let out a series of raspy croaks overhead and took flight. The wood was so quiet that Daryl could hear the wind through its wings as it flapped past and wheeled upwards, disappearing into the canopy of the craggy trees.

Daryl began to slowly search the area for any sign of someone, but was surprised and even more perplexed when he couldn’t seem to find a leaf or twig out of place. Not even a damn partial footprint… an impression in the ground. Nothing. The archer scoured the area thoroughly for the next couple hours, knife back in its sheath and the mysterious arrow shaft with its inky black fletching clutched in his right hand. He kept his eyes open for game, but it seemed to be making itself as scarce as clues were. There were seemingly endless game trails, old and new, and he walked them as systematically as he could. It was the easiest way to get around. Step off to either side and the blackberry brambles and vines would tear at your clothes and skin, biting in and drawing blood. That alone should have made it easier to figure out if someone was lurking around, but he found neither track nor trace… With the day wearing on and no sign of anything else out of the ordinary, Daryl conceded and decided to head back to Hilltop. At least he had his knife...

It was nearly dark by the time Daryl could see the walls of Hilltop ahead. Carol happened to be up on the guard platform when he returned, though Henry was absent. “Find anything?” she asked, surveying his expression as he came inside and the walls closed behind him. He was as stoic as always.

His hand went to the handle of his knife, replaced in its sheath. “Yes and no,” he drawled. Furrows appeared in Carol’s forehead. “Found my knife. But it was hangin’ up on this,” he said, holding up the arrow he still had clutched in his hand. “Stuck into a goddamn tree like somebody was waitin’ for me to come back for it.”

“That’s strange,” Carol murmured. She took the shaft and examined it, running a finger along the glossy black feathers at the end. Her eyes met Daryl’s, sharp and wary. Her expression was questioning. Daryl shrugged and shook his head. “I ain’t got a clue. I spent the whole day over there, crisscrossing the trails lookin’ for some sign of who was out there and all I was left with was this damn arrow. Not a boot print, not a broken twig, fuckin’ nothin’. ‘S’like it was left by a damn ghost.”

“Why would someone would pin it up for you to find again? Why wouldn’t they just keep it?” she questioned him, handing the arrow shaft back. Daryl shrugged.

“Dunno…” he murmured, twirling it in his hands. He looked around at the afternoon shadows crawling slowly over Hilltop and sighed. “How’re things? Henry?” he drawled, patting Dog’s head absently.

“He’s… doing okay,” she said, smiling. “I think it’s going to take him a little time to find his place here. But Alden and Earl have gotten him started.”

Daryl nodded. “Can’t be easy tryin’ to figure out bein’ ‘round other kids his age for the first time,” Daryl commented.

“No,” Carol said. “But I’m sure he’ll figure it out,” she added with a tight smile.

Daryl looked up as Jesus, Aaron, and Tara were suddenly making their way down the hill toward him and Carol with grim expressions.

“S’matter?” Daryl drawled, fiddling with his bandana absently as they came to a stop in front of him.

“Early this morning, Aaron and I found Rosita collapsed and exhausted out in the woods. She fired a flare. She and Eugene were working on something when walkers came up on them. Eugene’s hurt. She said she left him in a barn and was trying to get here for help. She’s in the infirmary,” Jesus explained.

“Eugene is still out there,” Aaron said, looking at Daryl. “We could really use your tracking skills. I don’t want to risk him spending another night out there.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. ‘Course.” And the three of them, Daryl, Aaron, and Jesus (and Dog) prepared to head out and search for Eugene.

They headed back toward where Aaron and Jesus had found Rosita and Daryl realized it wasn’t far from where he’d shot the deer and forgotten his knife. He pondered this, but didn’t say anything to Jesus or Aaron. He did, however, continue scrutinizing the ground closely for any sign or Eugene or anyone else.

They came to the edge of a large field and Daryl stopped dead. “What the hell?” he drawled. Aaron and Jesus stopped beside him, squinting at a herd in the field moving in concentric circles.

“Have—have either of you ever seen walkers do that before?” Jesus asked. Both Aaron and Daryl shook their heads.

“Never,” Daryl said, his gaze sharp as he studied the swirling horde. “C’mon. We ain’t got long before dark.” He led the way again with Dog out slightly in front. Moving through the woods as silently as possible, Daryl knew they were now very close to where he’d shot the deer. The hair on the back of his neck prickled again and he stopped as a gust of wind suddenly kicked up at their backs. “Stop,” he said suddenly, throwing up a hand. Jesus and Aaron stood still. “I can hear ‘em,” Daryl drawled. “On the wind.”

Straining their hearing, Jesus and Aaron heard the growls on the wind now too. “They’re following,” Aaron said, glancing back. Through the trees, wandering shapes could barely be seen. “Did they see us?” he asked.

Jesus stared at the incoming herd, suspicious and at a loss. “I don’t know. But we better keep moving.” Night had fallen by the time Daryl was able to trace Rosita’s trail back to the barn. They found Eugene huddled in the cellar. He was nearly incoherent, shaking and sweaty. “C’mon. We gotta go, Eugene,” Daryl insisted.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked concernedly as soon as they had hauled him up from the hidden cellar.

“I took a bad step and dislocated my knee,” Eugene said, still shaking.

“Well, if it’s dislocated we can just pop it back in,” Daryl said, his brow furrowed.

“No. No, listen to me,” he argues, wiping sweat from his brow. “The herd that followed us here is on its way back.”

“I saw their tracks,” Daryl drawled, not understanding his frantic tone and his trembling. “They’re gone…”

“No. It’s not. It’s already been through here twice. It’s lookin’ for me,” he insisted. “Eugene—” Jesus started. “No! We have to get out of here before it comes back! This wasn’t a normal run-of-the-mill bunch of wandering dead,” he says in his Texas twang.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked, wide-eyed and unsettled by Eugene’s behavior.

He lowered his voice. “When they passed us by, we could hear them—they were whispering to each other.”

Everyone exchanged confused and stunned glances. “You mean they were—talking?” Aaron asked.

Eugene was almost crying he was so frantic. “I know how it sounds! But Rosita heard it too. She’ll corroborate!”

Suddenly, Dog barked. The herd was back and inbound.

Daryl rushed to look out the window. “Shit,” he swore. “They’re gonna cut us off… Look, you two get him outta here. I’ll distract ‘em, lead em away so you can cover some ground. This dun make any damn sense,” Daryl said, pacing the length of the barn.

“They shouldn’t have doubled back like that and they definitely shouldn’t have followed us to the barn,” Jesus agree, shouldering Eugene’s weight with Aaron.

“It ain’t right,” Daryl agreed. “Alrigh’, go. Go! I’ll lead ‘em off. Go! C’mon boy!” Dog rushed after Daryl as the other three made their way slowly in the opposite direction.

Daryl and Dog pounded the pavement as fast as they could until they reached a dilapidated trailer house on the side of the road, not too far from the fork where he’d separated from the others. Daryl hurriedly heaved himself up on the top and withdrew some firecrackers from his bag, flicking his lighter, and lighting the fuse. He tossed them out onto the pavement and they soon were popping and banging with a burst of sound that echoed up and down the lonely road. Dog barked at the herd in the distance and Daryl watched as some of the walkers began to turn toward him and away from the direction of Eugene, Aaron, and Jesus. “Keep ‘em comin’ boy,” he called down to Dog, squinting in the fog and darkness.

All was as it should be at first; the walkers were following the sound. And then suddenly, they weren’t. The ones who had veered off were suddenly pulled back the way they had come as if drawn by some magnetic force correcting their course again. Daryl couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He hurriedly hushed Dog and stared, bewildered and desperate as the horde continued in the direction of his friends.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Shit!”

Daryl hurriedly slung himself over the edge, hung from the edge and then dropped down onto the ground. Dog ran up beside him. Huddled in the grass, he wondered frantically what to do. He had to get to the others—they wouldn’t know what was coming until it was too late. But how?

“Fuck it,” Daryl muttered, straightening up and dashing across the road into the brush on the other side. He followed parallel to the walkers, trying to get ahead of them so he could reach the others, but it was hard as they walked on the old highway and he had to scramble through windfalls and brambles, Dog bouncing in front of him. He found the path of least resistance suddenly cutting closer and closer to the road and the horde.

Overhead, lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Daryl ducked low in the shadows, eyeing the progress of the walkers, constantly trying to pass them and stay hidden. Soon the developing fog was closing in around him and he could barely see ten feet. Suddenly, Dog let out a low growl and Daryl froze, sensing some mass behind him. His hand twitched to his knife and he withdrew it. He spun and was face to face with a lunging walker, its hands raised and slashing like claws. He struck with his knife and it dropped. Daryl stumbled backward and swung his bow off his shoulder as his back hit the trunk of a large tree. He fired a bolt as another figure emerged from the fog reaching for him. Dog leapt and attacked as another walker stumbled forward. Daryl readied his knife again. They were closing in. He was hemmed in on all sides, the tree at his back, and as he stood, trying to prepare himself, panic threatening to drown him as he faced the certainty of his own death, he did hear the whispers.

Kill. Kill him. Kill. Tear. Rip him apart. Kill.

“Dog! Here! Get back!” Daryl yelled, waiting for the next of the circle of walkers around him to lunge. He watched with confusion as a huge walking, lumbering toward him, was struck by an arrow, seemingly rained down from above. It fell with weight in front of him, tripping up another. Then Daryl was suddenly struck hard on the head by something which then tumbled down over his shoulder.

Distracted, he looked to see a rough-looking rope ladder with wooden steps cascading beside him from out of the tree. Another walker jolted forward, snarling, and Dog clamped down on its head and didn’t stop biting until it lay still. Daryl kicked another back to keep it off Dog. He craned his neck to look up the ladder, up into the huge old oak tree, but he could see nothing high up in the darkness and haze of the fog. There was a sudden moan and snarl and Daryl found himself holding off a walker at arm’s length, grappling with it to keep its snapping jaws away from his neck. There was a sharp swish and a rush of air and the walker he was fighting went suddenly still, an arrow buried in its face. Daryl had half a moment to note that the fletching was black as midnight before it fell at his feet.

More of the dead pressed in. He stabbed two more and another arrow from above pierced the head of a third. He glanced back up at the tree and the dangling ladder. Did he have a choice? He looked back at the circle of walkers pressing ever more closely in. Another couple began to stagger forward. Dog barked frantically, facing them bravely, trying to protect Daryl. No choice. He had no choice. “Dog! C’mon! Up! Get up!” He seized the bottom of the ladder and pulled it slightly out, using all his weight to hold it taught as Dog let out a nervous bark and then ran up it like a ramp at full speed, scrambling a little against the trunk and more vertical steps near the top but finally disappearing into the darkness under the eaves of the tree. Daryl heaved out a final breath, slung his bow across his back and scrambled up after him. He felt fingertips on his ankle and kicked hard to free himself but the grip was strong. Another rush of air and the sharp sound of a passing arrow and the grip disappeared.

He climbed, heart racing, until he arrived at a surprisingly large wooden platform, built in among the thick branches. He spilled onto it and lay flat on his back, trying to catch his breath. Dog surged forward, anxious paws tapping, and licked his face.

Daryl startled as a dark figure moved beside him and quickly heaved the rope ladder up, rolling it into a neat coil and dropping it onto the platform before retreating again to the other side to lean back against a particularly large offshoot of the tree trunk. Daryl hurriedly rolled over and sat up on his knees, squinting into the darkness. Below, the growls and snarls seemed even louder and he could still hear the faintest rustle and hush of whispers woven in among them.

Dog circled and sat beside Daryl, peering with interest at the dark-clad figure. Daryl waited with bated breath for a long time to see if they would speak. They didn’t.

They were set back in shadow and he couldn’t make out much about them at all until lightning burst overhead again and he could barely see that they had on a sort of dark cloak with a hood and clutched a bow in one hand.

There was an increasing roar of crackling and rustling all around him and Daryl realized that it had started raining, but he felt no drops falling on him. Looking upwards, he saw with the next burst of lightning that there was another platform above him. He glanced back down at the figure. They were still unmoving. He watched as they set their bow aside and then raised their hands and pushed back their hood. Another fork of lightning lit the sky.

He gulped. His heart did a strange lurch in his chest. He was staring at you, and you were staring back at him. He was at a loss for anything to say. Below, the growls and snarls went on and on…

You were studying him carefully, your eyes narrowed, lips parted a little and slightly pursed.

He attempted to clear his throat, but it felt tight all of a sudden. “‘M Daryl,” he said, having to nearly yell over the torrent of rain and continued rolling booms of thunder.

You reached for your bow again, not taking your eyes off him.

“I—I think ya just saved my life. And Dog’s too. Well—I know ya did,” he said lamely, trailing off.

Instead of responding, he watched as you slung your bow on one shoulder and then turned and started to climb up the large vertical branch you’d been standing in front of with an agility and speed that was astonishing.

“Wait—hey!” he called after you.

But the tail of your dark cloak was already licking around the platform above and you were gone. Dog trotted over to where you’d been, sniffing and then looking up the branch. He let out a low whine and wagged his tail.

“What the fuck?” Daryl muttered, climbing to his feet and going to stand where you’d been. He examined the tree trunk, half-expecting to find steps or footholds drilled in that allowed you to climb so swiftly but there was nothing but the rough bark of the tree. He ran his fingers over it. He couldn’t imagine how you’d gotten a hold. Another bright burst of lightning shot through the sky and a loud boom of thunder rolled. Daryl backed away from the edge and sank down in the middle of the platform beside his pack and crossbow. He hauled his bow onto his lap, set another bolt in the flight groove, and drew it back so it was ready to fire in a hurry if needed. There he sat, rigid, staring into the darkness around him, Dog at his side.

His heart sank as he thought of Jesus, Aaron, and Eugene. He hoped they were safe. What a massive fucking misadventure this had been. But as he sat clutching his bow, wondering who the fuck you were, why the fuck you’d helped him, where the fuck you’d gone now (up the tree?), his mind did continually wander back to the whispering... He’d heard it. Exactly as Eugene had said. And the herd had behaved unlike any other he’d ever seen. They’d doubled back. They’d ignored the lights and sounds of the firecrackers. They’d rerouted. They seemed to move with purpose. They didn’t just wander. He didn’t know what it meant, why it occurred, but it was terrifying. _ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl awoke with a start when Dog let out a soft woof and he shot upright, grappling for his bow. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, especially being twenty-five feet in the air, but he had finally succumbed to exhaustion when the storm had passed in the wee hours of the morning. His back was stiff and tight from sleeping on the hard wood and he attempted to stretch to relieve the worst of it but was far too aware of you staring at him.

Now, he was looking back at you in the light of morning where you’d just climbed down on another ladder from the upper platform. This ladder passed through a hole in the platform above and he again remembered how skillfully you’d ascended without it the night before.

You were still dressed in mostly black, but the cloak and hood you’d worn during the night were gone. Along with your bow and a quiver full of arrows, there was a small bag slung across your body and you knelt and slipped it off. You flipped it open and pulled out a thermos and a chunk of crusty bread. You thrust them toward him and he eyed them somewhat warily. You finally just set them down and then stood, shifting your bow and quiver to the side, and leaning back against the tree trunk in the same way you had the night before. You crossed your arms over your chest and surveyed him.

Your eyes were bright and the colors seemed to flash in the morning sun. Daryl gulped and then cautiously reached for the bread and thermos. He unscrewed the top and sniffed its contents. Steam rose up and it was accompanied by an earthy and slightly sweet smell. Hot tea. Tea… in a tree? He was baffled. Did you have a fire up there somewhere? A stove? What the fuck? he thought for the hundredth time in a day’s time.

He looked up at you again and set the thermos aside. His eyes flickered down to your quiver. The feathers of the fletching were all glossy black. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Ya found my knife the other day.” A long beat of silence. You were unreadable. “Why’d ya—hang it back up for me to find?” he asked. “Ya knew I’d come back lookin’?”

Still nothing.

“Were ya watchin’ me out here before?”

Silence.

He was getting slightly annoyed. “Christ, d’ya speak at all or—”

“Yes,” you said suddenly. “I do.”

Now, Daryl’s mouth was hanging partially open.

“But I’m not in the habit of speaking with strangers.”

“Well,” he straightened up a bit, clearing his throat, “’M Daryl. And this is Dog,” he said, ruffling the Malinois’ fur. He waited to see if you’d reciprocate the introduction but you merely shifted a little. Daryl chewed on his bottom lip nervously.

“How’d you get mixed up in that mess last night anyway?” you asked him. You couldn’t help studying his every little movement closely, watching for a microscopic flash that something was off, waiting for him to suddenly reveal himself to be something… dark. But you saw nothing like that. Not yet, anyway. But he was obviously strong, capable. Careful, you cautioned yourself mentally.

Daryl’s stomach turned as he thought again of Eugene and Aaron and Jesus. He scolded himself for not thinking of them until now after waking up. “S’kinda a long story,” he drawled. “I was tryin’ to lead ‘em away from somewhere. Guess it backfired.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Lead them? Of course it went wrong,” you said, looking at him like that was the most obvious thing ever, or maybe more like he was a fucking idiot.

His brow furrowed low over his blue eyes. “What d’ya mean?”

“Well, the shepherds, obviously,” you said, deadpan.

“The—who?”

You straightened up, perplexed as you stared back at him. “The shepherds.” There was no understanding or recognition on his face. “Of the dead.”

Daryl only stared back at you, utterly confused.

You shook your head a little. “Couldn’t you hear them?” you asked him.

Finally, he nodded. “Ya mean the—the whisperin’?”

“Yes. It’s the shepherds,” you said again.

He still looked confused. You sighed and walked over the coiled ladder and nudged it off the edge with your foot. “Come down. I’ll show you.”

Daryl watched you slip down with ease and then glanced at Dog. “Stay, boy,” he said, and he followed more clumsily down the ladder behind you, feeling cautiously with his boots for the next step. He felt overly large and awkward behind you. When he planted his boots back on solid ground again, he was surprised to see the number of dead walkers lying at the base of the tree. You had shot more than he’d noticed the night before in all the chaos. Most had a thick arrow shaft capped with black feathers protruding from its head. You went about collecting your arrows. You paused at the last one and gave him a significant look before rolling it over with your boot so it was facedown. You bent and Daryl moved closer. “Here. See?” You pointed at the back of the head. At first, Daryl didn’t understand what he was supposed to be looking at. You withdrew a knife from your hip with a skillful movement and slipped the blade up the back of the head. It was as you did this that Daryl finally saw the lacing, like a shoelace, on the back of the head.

“What the hell?” he growled.

Once the lacing was cut, you gripped the scraggly hair on the top of the head and tugged. The whole head seemed to come off at first until he realized it was slipping off like a mask. You held it up with a disgusted look on your face for him to see.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he drawled. He turned the body back over and found himself looking at a person. Not one who had ever turned to the undead, but the very human-looking corpse of a person dead from your arrow the night before. He stood up, in slight shock.

You dropped the horrifying mask to the ground. “They wear skins, herd the dead. They walk with them. Control them,” you said. “The shepherds.”

“Why?” Daryl asked.

You didn’t answer, simply stared at him stony-faced, sheathed your knife, stuffed the arrows you’d collected back in your quiver, and climbed the ladder back up into the tree.

As a last thought, Daryl grabbed the mask and crammed it into the inside pocket in his vest. Then, he followed you back up.

Daryl found you sitting at the edge petting Dog when he pulled himself back onto the platform. The bread and thermos were still sitting there in the middle and his hunger reared its head. He grabbed the bread and sank down beside his pack and bow again.

“What d’ya know ‘bout these shepherds?” he asked you again. “These—Whisperers?”

Your eyes flickered up to his face and then back to Dog as you picked a burr out of his coat. “They almost killed you last night. What more do you need to know?”

“Alrigh’…” Daryl drawled, biting off another piece of bread. “Ya ain’t even gonna tell me yer name? Where ya came from?”

Your eyes snapped up to his face again. “You don’t owe me your backstory and I certainly don’t owe you mine,” you said. You stood abruptly as the croak of a raven sounded nearby. “You led that herd right to my tree—”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. “Ain’t like I did that on purpose. I didn’t know somebody was livin’ in a fuckin’ tree—it coulda been any tree in a thousand.”

“But it wasn’t. And I saved your ass—”

Daryl was slightly incredulous. “Ya want another thank you? Or an apology?” he asked, standing.

Your hand reflexively strayed to your knife as he rose to his full height. “And now I’ll have to move—”

Daryl continued to stare at you, baffled. The raven croaked again nearby. “Why the hell did ya even save me and Dog?” he asked.

“Should I not have?” you retorted. Abruptly, you tore your eyes from his face. “I think it’s time you go. I’m sure your people are worried,” you said, patting Dog once more time.

“Hang on—how d’ya know I got people?” Daryl pressed you.

“You have people,” you said.

“Do you have people?” he asked.

You ignored his question. “I can fit a harness on your dog to lower him down,” you said.

“Forget it,” Daryl growled. He shoved what was left of the chunk of bread into his pack and slung it across his back. He shouldered his crossbow. “Thanks for breakfast. Dog. Shoulders, c’mon!”

Daryl bent his knees and Dog propelled himself onto Daryl’s shoulders and balanced there. Daryl was bowed slightly under the weight and you watched, somewhat amazed as he navigated the edge of the platform and climbed the ladder back down. You leaned over and watched Dog jump down. Daryl readied his crossbow in his hands, prepared to set out.

You couldn’t resist having the last word. “Daryl,” you called down. He looked up. “You didn’t thank me, technically, for saving your life.”

Daryl peered up, disbelieving. “Last night, I said—”

“You stated a fact, that I did,” you interrupted. “That isn’t a ‘thank you’.”

He swore under his breath. “Hey, what the hell is your problem?” he growled back.

And for the first time, Daryl saw you smile, and his stomach seemed to somersault in his midsection. Just then, a huge raven swooped in and perched on your shoulder, letting out a raspy noise as a greeting and ruffling its feathers as you scratched beneath its bill affectionately. “Bye, Daryl. Be careful of the shepherds. And I’ll ask that you just go and forget about me.” And with that, you disappeared, and the ladder behind him slowly began to raise as you reeled it back up.

Daryl had seen a lot of shit in his time since the world fell, but this? You? Some mysterious woman living in a tree with a fucking pet raven? What the fuck... This was something else entirely. Forget about you? Not fucking likely.

[specialagentlokitty]

Rick grimes x teen!reader - welcome home

Second I saw you wanted requests from TWD so I thought why not (don’t know if you’ve gotten a request like this before or not but I’ll send it anyway) and I know there’s a lot of these fics out there but as Rick is my favorite character and I love all your fics that I’ve written that I have read I would love to see your take on Rick finding a child or teen and taking said child in - @panic-in-the-multiverse 💜

Resting your arms on the metal pipe that was behind your neck, you glanced around the street briefly, looking for anything worth looking through.

There wasn’t much in this area, and going by all the broken doors and dead laying on the ground with busted heads you would say somebody had been here.

Crouched next to one of them, you grabbed a stick from your pocket, poking it into the blood to see that it was still pretty fresh.

Tossing the stick aside, you stood up, glancing around and you heard the sound of somebody nearby.

Rushing away, you jumped up on a dumpster, using it to climb on the roof of a building and you pushed it away with the pole, making it creak.

“Shit…”

You moved back from the ledge, quietly laying down, keeping as still and quiet as possible.

You couldn’t hear anything at first, no walkers, no growling, snarling, banging, but you did hear steps coming closer.

There was movement where you had gotten up on the building, but there was no attempt to get up there, so, you weren’t sure if it were dead or human.

Either way you weren’t risking your own life, both you needed to stay away from.

You waited for a few minutes, trying to see what was going to happen, then you heard a clattering sound and you jumped up, grabbing your weapon you aimed at at the ledge you had used to get up.

A man jumped up, and he aimed his gun at you.

You made no attempt to attack him, you didn’t have that kind of firepower, he would win in a heartbeat because you never bring a knife to a gunfight, and you didn’t even have a knife, you had a metal pole.

You stared at him, and he stared back.

“Who are you?” He asked.

You refused to speak.

“Are you alone?”

You didn’t reply, you weren’t a fool, you weren’t going to tell him you were alone.

You took a step back before turning around, breaking out into a sprint you ran to the edge of the building and jumped.

Tossing your weapon, you rolled onto the next roof, picking it back up and the man ran over to the ledge of the building he was on.

He looked over at you and you looked back at him, sitting down as you just watched.

He did the same thing, both of you having a silent stare down, neither of you really speaking.

“I’m Rick.”

Rick studied you, clearly you had been out here for a long time, you clothes were torn slightly, bloodied, dirtied, there wasn’t an inch if you that wasn’t covered in dirt or blood.

He recognised the look on your face, he’d seen it before, the state you were in, he had been in it before.

You couldn’t have been much older than Carl was, you were teenager, maybe 15 or 16 if his guess was right, but nobody knew how old they really were anymore.

You seemed to debate something before you finally spoke.

“(Y/N).” You replied quietly.

Rick smiled a little, raising his hands to show you that he was putting his gun away, and you reached to the side, setting your own weapon down.

“Are you hungry?”

Rick dug through his bag, pulling out an apple and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

“It’s alright, it’s safe.”

“You first.”

“You don’t trust me, I respect that. I understand. I don’t have a clean knife on me.”

You scoffed a little.

“I don’t give a fuck, bite it then, I ain’t taking shit until you’ve had it first.”

“Alright.”

Rick bite into it, showing you it was safe to eat and he held it out.

You nodded, getting up, Rick tossed it over and you caught it, sitting back down.

You knew it would be safe, he didn’t even hesitate to eat some of it, if it wasn’t in any way he would have, even just a slight hesitation.

You hadn’t had food for over a day, so you quickly devoured the apple, spitting the seeds to put them in your pocket.

You glanced at Rick, looking away with a small huff.

“You got anymore…?”

He chuckled a little, nodding.

“Yes. Here.”

He tossed you another one, and you took your time eating this one.

“Do you have a community or anything like that? Any people?” Rick asked.

You shook your head.

“Do you?”

“Before I tell you anything I’ve gotta ask you a few questions, that okay?”

You nodded your head, understanding his hesitation.

It gave you an indication he did have something, and he wanted to protect whatever it was, make sure it was safe.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

You furrowed your brows a little in confusion.

“I.. I don’t know what walkers are.”

“The dead.” He said.

“Oh, I don’t know, a lot I guess. I try to just avoid them I’m only one person.”

He nodded.

“How many people have you killed?”

“None, I avoid them too.”

“Why?”

You looked at Rick before turning away, looking at the metal pipe you had, then your hands.

“Because both the dead and people are dangerous, the dead just kill you, but people? People betray you. They’ll turn you over, turn their backs on you just to save their own asses.”

“Yeah, some people will.”

You turned your attention back to the man on the other roof.

“You didn’t answer my question, do you have a community?”

Rick smiled a little.

He had decided that you weren’t a bad person, you were scared, yes. You were unsure, you didn’t trust him, and he understood that.

“Yeah, yeah I do. I was with a few of them, we got separated. You seem pretty aware of your surroundings, have you seen any go by?”

“No, this place as been empty for a few days maybe, aside from you. There were a few of the dead, or walkers. That’s it.”

Rick sighed, nodding his head slightly.

He looked up at the sun, figuring he only had maybe an hour or so left of daylight, and that wouldn’t be enough time to find anybody.

He stood up, and you watched him.

“Come with me, it’s not safe out here and it’s going to get dark. We’ll find a place, just for the night.”

Rick went to leave but when you didn’t move he hesitated, looking between you and the way back down.

“(Y/N)?”

“There’s nowhere safe.”

“My community is, but we can’t make it in time before nightfall.”

“You won’t make it you know. They always come here at night, they pass through.”

Rick furrowed his brows a little bit and you gestured to the left side of the roof he was on.

“I hid some firewood.”

Rick looked to where you pointed, and he moved a bunch of leaves to see that you had hidden wood, a box of matches as well.

He grabbed them, putting them in a scorch mark that was already made on the roof.

As nightfall, he lit the fire and you stayed over where you were, not trusting him enough ti get any closer and that’s what worried him.

“(Y/N) please, it’s cold, you’ll freeze over there.”

“Nah, you stay there, I stay here.”

“Fine, what if we swap? You hear and me there?”

You shook your head.

“Nah, you’re too old to make that jump anyways.”

He chuckled a little, resting his arm in the edge of the roof as he looked over.

“You reckon?”

“Yeah, you’re old as shit.”

“Ouch, okay. I’m here trying to make friends and you’re just throwing insults at me.”

You grinned a little at him, leaning back on your hands.

“Rick?”

He hummed a little, looking over at you.

“What did you do before all of this?”

“I was a sheriff’s deputy. What about you? Were you in school?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t much good at it though.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I dunno, it was just hard I guess.”

Rick smiled a little.

“It’s not for everybody.”

He got up to add some more wood to the fire, and he heard you jump back over, sitting near it.

He smiled a little, sitting on the other side so you felt safer.

There were walkers down below, but they didn’t seem to care about the fire or see it, and it made sense to Rick why you were camping up there.

You saw his bag and you reached over, and he turned away so he could pretend he didn’t see you sneaking food from it.

You were hungry, and he wasn’t going to stop you from taking what you needed.

He had a whole community of food, and you had barely anything.

“What’s your community like?” You asked.

Rick looked at you, shuffling a little to the side so he was able to see you a little better.

“Well, there’s people, houses, electricity, clean, running water. Food, walls and gates. It’s safe.”

You frowned.

“Walls fall, crumble. Gates break. Food and water runs out. Just because something seems safe doesn’t mean it is…”

“Maybe, but we’ll fight to keep it safe.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s home, a place for us to stay, a place to build and grow.”

You reached into your pocket, and you pulled out some paper, unfolding it and you handed it over to him.

“We had a home like that. But my mom and dad didn’t think it was safe, so they left.”

Rick took it, looking at the drawing.

He could tell it was drawn by a younger child, by you from the way you had hastily scribbled your name in the top corner of the page.

He recognised the place, by the walls surrounding it, and the very badly spelt name.

“You’re from Alexandria?”

You nodded.

“We were, but when things got worse my parents didn’t want to be sitting like prey. They couldn’t pretend everything was fine, so we all left. They died, leaving me alone out here. Been like that for a while now.”

“Do you want to go back?”

You thought for a moment, from what you could remember Alexandria had food, it sounded like what Rick had described.

But you didn’t trust people anymore.

You weren’t used to people anymore.

“I came from Alexandria (Y/N). It’s changed, I won’t lie to you some people have died, but it till standing.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, so just think about. Our gates are always open to you. But right now you need some rest, okay? I’ll keep watch.”

You didn’t say anything, and you laid down, hands on your stomach as you stared at the sky trying to keep awake.

But you were exhausted, you’d been awake for days, and Rick posed no threat, so you fell asleep.

Rick noticed this and he covered you up with his jacket, sitting nearby to keep an eye on you.

When the sun began to rise you woke up, finding Rick standing on the edge of the building, talking to somebody down below.

You sat up, his jacket falling and you stood up, grabbing his jacket and your weapon, making your way over.

You set his jacket down and you stood on the edge beside him, looking down at the man who was on the ground.

He aimed his crossbow at you, and Rick quickly put an arm in front of you.

“Daryl no. (Y/N) is from Alexandria. Before we got there.”

“You ask the questions?”

“Yeah. Passed.”

Daryl lowered his weapon, and Rick turned to you.

“He’s a friend..” he whispered.

“Come on, we need to go. There’s more walkers comin’!” Daryl called up.

He ran to the side of the building and Rick picked his jacket up, pulling it back on and grabbed his bag, making his way over.

He jumped down, and you looked down at him.

Rick smiled, holding out his hand to you.

“It’s alright.” He said gently.

You sat down, and turned around, lowering yourself towards the dumpster, as Rick helped you down, then helped you down from there.

He and Daryl stood on either side of you, and while Daryl was wary of you, Rick would offer you a reassuring smile if you looked at him.

You saw the gates of Alexandria drawing closer, and they were open, and you slowly stopped.

You hadn’t been here for years, you hadn’t been anywhere safe for years.

Rick stopped short of the gates and he turned around, giving you a gentle smile and he walked back over.

“Hey, hey it’s okay…” he whispered.

“What if it isn’t..?”

“It will be, you’ll be safe.”

He glanced back at Daryl and a few others who were waiting nervously, looking around with their weapons raised.

You glanced past him and he stood in front of you.

“Hey, don’t worry about them. Just focus on me, yeah? You don’t have to interact with anybody else until you’re ready, just focus on me, I’ll look after you.”

You moved your eyes to his, they reminded you of your dads.

The way you dad would look at you so gently, so caring.

Rick held out his hand, and you reached up, hand shaking and you pulled away.

“I can’t do it… I.. I can’t…”

“I know you’re scared, that’s okay. It’s okay to be scared (Y/N), but we’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

He glanced back, giving a look to the others who began to clear people away from the gates.

“Welcome home.” He smiled.

You reached up, taking his hand, letting him walk you into the place you once called home, the place you would call your home once more.

But times had changed, you had changed, and you didn’t know how to live among people anymore, or even if you wanted to.

Rick could see that by the way you kept your the outside of the place, you turned the underground of Alexandria into your home to stay away from everybody.

Rick made his way down, a bag on his back, and he walked over to your cot, sitting next to you.

“Here, some water, food, and some books.”

He set the bag down and you handed him back to the books you were finished with.

He didn’t want to leave you down there, but if it’s where you felt safe, where you would be semi comfortable until you trusted him, felt comfortable with people he would.

But he would always remind you that you come join the rest of Alexandra whenever you were ready

[itsgrimeytime]

he's such a pretty liar || Rick Grimes (TWD) × gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz @deadgirlrin

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Dialogue Prompts: 8 + 2

Inspiration: my boy by Billie Eilish

Summary: You and Rick had gotten along at some point, at the farm and prison. You were friends even. Until the Governor killed Hershel, which you believed to be perfectly preventable. Because of his inaction then, you'd gotten a bitter taste in your mouth at the thought of him and eventually, he started to reciprocate the behavior. But as time passes, and you experience more and more with him, is it really hate that you feel?

TWs: enemies to lovers (like fr though), yelling, mentions of death (Shane, Lori, Beth, and Hershel), mention of the Claimers scene, cursing, anger, nosebleed, bruising, love confessions, injuries, blood, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: This is based on Carl being mad at Rick after the prison. Rick do be stressed out, and he do be saying some terrible stuff, but like so are you. This gif is so 🫣💞🤭💞🤪. Anyway, enjoy :))) ]]

You weren't a bad person, and in that regard, you wouldn't say Rick was either. Honestly, you respected him as a leader -you just didn't agree with all his choices. That's where it all started, after all, isn't it?

You'd seen what a wrong choice could do, you'd watched Hershel die right in front of your eyes. You'd seen it all.

And, sure, maybe you were grieving a little but you still largely disagreed with Rick's actions on the matter. It was preventable.

It started there, and only really got worse. It was like once you identified one flaw, suddenly you were second-guessing his every move. The two of you couldn't be in a room without arguing, couldn't be put on shifts together, nothing. Daryl, for one, wouldn't let you be alone together at all. And if it wasn't him, it was someone else.

"Rick, seriously," you spoke once, almost sternly, "-that can't be your decision."

"Why?" he responded -pointed and short, "-Ya got a better idea? Go right fuckin' ahead."

You knew that since the prison, Rick had been strung thin. You knew that he had been harder on himself than you could ever be about Hershel. But, you still were angry. Sometimes, sometimes it felt like maybe he was just a target for everything that you'd been through. And you were trying to change your behavior, change your ways.

You'd known him for so long, and you were going to be stuck with him. The group, even though the two of you weren't on the best terms, was like family to you.

And then, it started getting personal.

This argument stemmed from something small, trivial, you can't even remember it now. Maybe a decision on a run? You can't-

"Ya act like ya ain't made mistakes of your own," he added, "-all high and damn mighty-"

"When did I say that?" You interrupted, more cold than anything, "-You're putting words in my mouth, Grimes."

"-Because I seem to remember ya tellin' me about your family," he continued, not even pausing to listen to you.

You stilled in place.

"Rick," you warned (voice slightly shaking), "-don't... don't go there."

Your family. At the beginning of all this, you'd froze -scared. Watched one of them get bitten, and then everyone just followed after -not willing to grieve. You regretted not being quicker, not being more aware, but you weren't used to it. You weren't-

"Ya fucked up," Rick continued, as if he wasn't bringing up what he was, "-We all do, why do you-"

"No, no," you shook your head, voice shaking, "-Rick, that is not fair. You can't bring up my family-"

You had hated yourself for that, hated yourself. Still did. You would never forgive yourself for not saving them, even though you really didn't have an idea how to then, you should have-

God, he was bringing this up? Really?

"-over a goddamn run strategy."

"Well, you pick apart every damn thing I do," he retorted, "-'Thought I'd do the same for once."

"Oh, fuck you, Rick," you seethed, tears burning the backs of your eyes, "-you want me to poke at your wounds? Talk about who you could've saved?"

He pursed his lips, and you saw something flash through his eyes (they were trailing the now shake of your hands) that looked a little like regret. Like maybe he was understanding what he said. You felt like your skin was on fire.

"Do you want me to start from the beginning?" You tsked, a fire burning in your chest, "-Shane? Or maybe Lori? Beth? Hershel-"

"Stop," he stated, quieter than before.

"-Why, Rick?" you hissed, and you felt the tears now, "-Is this not what we're talking about? Oh, do you not want me to bring that up? Over a run?"

"I get it," he spoke, softer, and something in you sharpened, "-I get it, Y/N."

"Do you?" you responded, frustrated and just... angry, "-Do you, Rick?"

"I shouldn't 'ave-"

"Can it," you interrupted -short, "-Let's just get the fucking supplies and go."

Rick frowned, blue eyes far more emotive (all you could see was regret and pity), "Y/N, I didn't-"

"You didn't what?" You countered, and your voice was cracking, "-You didn't mean to bring up the fact that I watched my family die, right in front of me? Do you think that I don't hate myself every day for not doing anything then?"

Rick didn't say a word.

"-Hate to break it to you, sheriff, but I fucking do."

"Y/N..." he trailed off, blue eyes much calmer, the rage from before dissipating out of his voice.

"No, just-" you cleared your throat, wiping mindlessly at your frustratingly red eyes, "-Let's get this shit done and leave."

From then on, it had been much deeper.

You couldn't stand him, you hadn't been alone with him since. He made your skin crawl and your mind flare up in anger, and sometimes, just sometimes, it would shake your respect for him. Because you did have some, you probably wouldn't even be here, if you didn't.

The funny thing about it all was that you were close to Carl, very close to him. At the prison, after Lori's death, you'd nearly been inseparable. It was kind of like a parent relationship, but at the same time a little like a friend. It made you want to reconcile sometimes, but all you and Rick did was clash.

So much that you started to wonder what a normal conversation was like with him.

And then, you had the run-in with the Claimers.

God, what they'd threatened to do to Carl? You personally would've snapped their spine yourself if you had the chance. But what Rick had done? You couldn't imagine it yourself.

But you knew that he did what he had to. And some part of you wanted to tell him that, despite... despite all of your problems, you knew he needed it.

It was late that night when you decided to talk to him. It was just the two of you awake. You, on purpose, and you just knew Rick would be. Doing that was probably still rattling through his skull, he probably couldn't even close his eyes without-

Your steps were slow and careful, trying not to startle him -he just seemed to be staring. Endlessly staring, and just pacing. Despite it all, you felt something in your chest swirl with worry.

"Rick?" you spoke, gently. Even still, you saw his whole body tense up.

"Please," he muttered, voice low and gravelly -blue eyes heavy on you, "-I don't need your shit right now. I kno' 'at I did somethin' bad, really damn bad. But I just can't deal wit' ya-"

"No, Rick," you interrupted, "-that's not why I'm... That's not what I want to say."

"What do ya want to say, then?"

"You made the right decision," you responded, tone sturdy and unmoving, "-you... you did what you had to."

Rick stilled, something flickering through his face -a flutter of emotions.

"I know, we aren't on the best terms, but-" you rolled your lip around your teeth, "-you're not a monster, Rick."

The silence was loud then, as his blue eyes skimmed over you -carefully. Maybe like he was seeing a new you, or maybe an old one he'd forgotten about. One you'd forgotten about.

"Trust me, I know it feels like it," you added (mind flashing with what you'd done over the years), "-but you did what you had to. You saved your son, and that's all that matters."

He didn't say anything for a moment, trying to process your words. And if you really looked, you might've seen his eyes fogging up a little and the slight drop of tension in his shoulders. A little like he was waiting for someone to tell him that.

And then, he replied, "Thank ya."

You pursed your lips a moment, fidgeting with your hands. You weren't sure what else to say. This was all so new. With a succinct nod, you moved to spin on your heel and lay down for the night.

"Wait," he called, and you turned back to him -eyes inquisitive.

There was a beat.

"-'At day, on the run," he continued, slow and regretful, "-I'm... I'm sorry. I never should 'ave said somethin' like 'at. I never should 'ave brought it up at all. 'Wasn't right of me to."

"Thanks, Rick," you responded, brief but genuine, grateful. You could tell he understood.

Before you could fully turn around though, he added -softer, with something you couldn't quite name, "Goodnight, Y/N."

There was a pleasant hum in your mind at the way he said your name, but you shoved it away. You'd locked all of that far away, a long time ago.

"Night, Grimes," you chimed back, lighter in tone.

He smiled at you then, and something in you gleamed a little from it. Not that you would ever say it out loud.

There was something different after that, a sort of trust or respect. Or maybe something else, you didn't really know. It was there, though.

When you found Alexandria, things shifted a little. Mostly because it was your group against another one, you and Rick were profoundly on the same side. That being said, you still clashed. You weren't sure if it was just the authority of it all, or what? (It might've had a little to do with a blonde wife that he was spending some time with, but you'd never say that out loud.)

"You're seriously not going to let me lead the run?"

"I got Daryl on it," he responded, eyes solely sat on you.

"He's been on all the runs lately," you continued, trying to explain your case, "-Shouldn't this shit be evenly distributed? Have you even talked to Daryl about what he wants? Or are you just assigning us like it's some dictatorship-"

"'Course I damn talked to 'im," he snapped back, and you could see something tired in his eyes, "-everybody gets a say in what 'ey're doin', ya know 'at."

"Except for me," you contradicted, "-you keep giving me the same fucking chores, when I'm useful in other places-"

And he was, he kept you in Alexandria -washing clothes, making dinner, keeping an eye on the people. He made you some kind of mediator between Deanna's people and your own. But you were useful, you shouldn't be locked inside like you couldn't handle yourself. Because you could, and you had before.

"-You know, I scavenged for months before I met you, right? I was alone, and I figured it out."

"I know 'at," he confirmed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You could nearly see the stress radiating off him, but you couldn't stop, not then.

"So, so what-" you asked, "-you don't trust me? You don't think I can do it?"

Rick sighed, big and loud -fully facing you, "It ain't 'at, Y/N. I know ya can handle yourself, I've seen it."

"Then, what is the problem, Grimes? I don't get it-"

"Just take the goddamn next run," he groaned, something in his tone broken (and something a little like guilt curled up in your stomach), "-I'll tell Daryl he's switchin'."

You stopped in place, words faltering off your lips. Your will and the fire in your gut extinguished, you suddenly felt very out of place, and a little like the bad guy. You knew you weren't though, but he just looked so tired-

"Okay," you finally responded, a little dumbfounded, "-thanks."

He nodded in your direction and didn't say a word. You took it as a motion to move along, so you did.

Apparently, he might've had a good reason to worry.

It wasn't that first run, or even the second or third, it was the fourth after that conversation that you were stupid. Well, it really wasn't your fault. You thought someone had your back, and they didn't; so, one of the walkers had clawed pretty deep into your arm.

It was bleeding a lot (maybe too much) and probably needed stitches, but you didn't worry about it. Denise could handle it, and you, as a community, were pretty good on medical supplies at this point.

What you didn't expect, was after Denise patched you up for one Rick Grimes to be on your ass.

You were still sitting in her doctor's space (you had no idea what to call it) then, silently trailing your fingers over the bandaging. You could already see some of the blood through the white of it. It made you a little nervous, you won't lie.

And then, the door swung open.

At first, you nearly grabbed for the knife you hid on you -alarmed, assuming it was someone coming to hurt you. Instead, you were met with one Rick Grimes -his face was all scrunched up in that way he always got when he was frustrated.

If there was one thing you could recognize, it was that.

"Rick?" you questioned -carefully, a little shocked by him bursting into the room. Did you do something to him recently?

"'At's why ya can't go on fuckin' runs," he grumbled out -suddenly so angry, it made your head spin.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What?"

"You're always makin' damn bad decisions," he continued, and something in you bristled. Your defenses were up in an instant.

"What the fuck, Rick?" you countered, "-You don't even know what happened, how the hell do you know it's on me?"

"You're injured," he clarified, a little like he was talking to himself, "-ya made a stupid mistake-"

"How the hell do you know that?" you hissed, "-Do you just think everything that goes wrong has to be my fucking fault, Grimes?"

"-and you're damn hurt."

There was something there in his tone, something different. Your frustration twisted into a little bit of curiosity. What was that?

"I can’t leave ya alone for one second without ya hurting yourself, can I?" He started up again, and it was there again, angry but also... but also-

Your eyes swam over him, and you recognized it then, worry. He was worried about you, you felt something in you stall. It was so different from what you knew from him-

"I mean," you responded, a little awkwardly -unsure (since when did he care so much?), "-I’m fine so it’s okay-"

"No, it’s not okay," he suddenly shot his eyes to you, blue eyes heavy with worry (so much, it shot to your core), "-Not when I feel like I’m goin' to go batshit fuckin' crazy, thinkin' you’ve hurt yourself."

It was silent for a moment, as your mind processed the words. Skimming along his face, as he seemed to do the same -frustration dissipating along his features.

That... That was new.

"It's just some scratches," you spoke -a little lost, you weren't sure exactly what to say. He cared about you that much? Thought about you that much?

Rick's eyes darted to the bandages, which were just about as dark as before -which was just a little, the stitches seemed to stop it mostly. Something in him relaxed, you could tell in his shoulders -the drop of the tension. You couldn't believe that was because of you. When-

"Ya had to get stitches, yeah?" He spoke, suddenly and a bit awkwardly too (like he wasn't sure what to do).

"I did," you confirmed, just looking and something in you felt like you needed to tell him more, so you did, "-Uh, five in one, and three in the other."

He pursed his lips (like he was debating something), before shattering out a breath, "Can I see it?"

"It's already wrapped up," you responded, blankly -you were running a little on autopilot, "-She already-"

"Denise can rewrap it," he offered, stepping closer. Something in your stomach stirred.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "You want to waste medical supplies, just so you can see my wound?"

Rick's lips pressed into a thin line, something in him firing back up, "I'll replace the supplies my damn self, if I 'ave to, just let me see."

You couldn't really say anything, it felt like all the words had washed from your head. Like you couldn't speak if your life was on the line.

He faltered a second, sighing, and his eyes shifted to something softer (a little like pleading), "I... I need to see if ya are alright."

You felt like you were stone -frozen.

"Please."

Your heart lept into your throat (and you let your mind drift somewhere you'd never let it before), "Yeah, okay."

That started the shift.

And he started checking over you after every run, you thought it would've been annoying but... you got used to it. And something in you liked helping him calm down, although you'd never say it out loud.

Things were a little different. You clashed but it wasn't as fiery anymore. Because you knew he cared about you, and somewhere you could acknowledge you cared about him. (More than you'd ever admit.)

This time it wasn't even Rick you were arguing with. It was someone originally from Alexandria. You couldn't even remember their name, but they'd said something about you and you let it slide. But then, they kept going.

"You made a shit call," the guy remarked, sauntering up to your side.

You were a little startled, but you stayed composed, "What are you talking about?"

"We could've gotten more supplies," he continued, "-that gun store was right there, and you called the whole fucking thing off."

You soured -something steeling in your gut, "You mean the one that was swarmed? Hate to break it to you, but we were outnumbered."

"We could've done it," he added -persistent, something frustrated in his tone, "-we had the manpower."

"Are you serious?" you laughed a little incredulously, "-There were three of us, and about 30, 40 maybe, walkers. That is-"

"Maybe you couldn't have done it," he tsked, lips falling in a flat line.

You flexed your jaw, trying to stay composed, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're a sorry fucking excuse for a lead," he gritted through his teeth, "-You don't know shit about-"

"Next time, just go right ahead and do it yourself then," you shot back but stayed still in your space (composed, composed, composed), "-and I don't know about you, but I value life more than something we already fucking have-"

"It's ammunition," he seethed, stepping much closer to you -something sparking behind his eyes, "-Don't know if you fucking know this, but it's pretty damn important to survival-"

"No," you disagreed, voice calm and collected, "-it's not. You don't need to walk into a situation that you can't handle-"

Without warning, a fist flew at your face -right at the nose.

"Shit," you hissed, and you felt the thrum of pain under your skin and could almost immediately taste the coppery taste of blood, "-What the fuck? Why did you-"

"What the hell is goin' on 'ere?"

It was Rick, and his tone was something you'd only heard a few times -blue eyes flickering over you. They held onto your, now bleeding, nose which you were now trying to soothe, and something in his jaw tightened.

The guy was the first one to speak, mostly because you were trying to stop the bleeding. Luckily, Maggie rushed up to your side with paper towels -doing her best to help too.

"They made a mistake on the run-"

Rick didn't let him get far, "So, you punched 'em in the damn face?"

"Well," the guy fell quieter, "-we were arguing-"

Maggie snapped back, shifting her focus for a moment, "You were arguin'."

"No-"

"They were just trying to talk some sense into ya," she continued, tone cold, "-You were the one who took it personally-"

Rick put a hand on her shoulder, eyes flickering toward you -something swimming through them that you recognized from a different day, and Maggie took the notion to stop talking. She turned back to you, and gently guided you to tilt your head forward. On instinct, you pinched your nostrils shut -breathing out of your mouth.

"Even if it was a fuckin' argument," Rick tsked, something cold in his tone, "-there's no damn reason to do 'at. They weren't gettin' violent with ya-"

"How do you know that?"

"Because I kno' 'em," he retorted, "-an' if 'ey got their hands on ya, you wouldn't be standin' in front of me."

You laughed a little and could feel his eyes shoot to you for a second. It made something in your chest flutter, something you were trying desperately to ignore.

"We need to get ya some ice," Maggie spoke, mostly to herself, "-It's already bruisin' up pretty bad."

"'S leave 'is for another day," Rick seemed to exit the conversation with the man, tone unshakable, "-but if I 'ear anythin' else from ya, 'ere's gonna be a problem. Ya got 'at?"

You could almost visually see the way Rick shifted as he made his way over to you. Composure slipping into something more worried, eyebrows furrowing and eyes shining in an entirely different way. Like he couldn't help it, his hands frantically found themselves along your shoulders. It made your skin buzz a little, and made you feel a little woozy. Well, you guessed there could be more than one reason for that.

On that note, you stumbled in place a little, and Rick's hands immediately slid to your sides -stabilizing you. Your heart skipped a beat, stupid fucking handsome men with big fucking hands.

"'Ey, can ya bring a chair over 'ere, please?"

Before you could so much as blink, he was pushing you into it -gently, mind you. Ever-so-gently. And almost on instinct, he fell onto one knee in front of you, trying to hold your eye contact with your head slightly forward, you guessed. His eyes were the same as that day, but there was something else there too, something fuzzier.

"Maggie, ya go get the ice," he turned to her, "-I'll stay with 'em."

She seemed to scamper off because you could tell it was just the two of you. Maybe he'd warded off everyone else, Rick had this... aura to him when he wanted to -a dangerous one. Sometimes you thought it was to balance out his natural nature as a leader.

Quietly, you heard Rick tear off another paper towel and gently wipe at your mouth (where you imagined blood was staining at this point). It was strangely intimate, as you just skimmed over his face.

He was entirely focused on the task, so your eyes roamed along the creases along his face, the blue of his eyes, the sharp line of his nose, the little curls that peeked behind his ears-

You blinked, clearing your thoughts. He was always handsome, you knew that.

"What even is that dick's name?" you questioned, testing to see if your nose had stopped bleeding as much. It had.

Rick smiled a little, looking up at your eyes from where he was focused before (he seemed to be done), "I 'ave no fuckin' clue."

You laughed at that, and if you were honest with yourself thought you saw something shoot through his eyes. Something warm. You ignored it.

"'S hurt?" he spoke, softer.

You responded, simply, "I've had worse."

Rick smiled a little at that, but fell into something more serious, "So, yeah?"

"Like a bitch," you admitted, and he let out a low sort of chuckle.

It made something in you relax, something warm lighting up in your chest. You let yourself feel it this time, just once.

"Just so ya know," he interrupted your thought process, "-'at ain't happenin' again."

You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows -warmth dissipating, "Are you- Are you chastising me right now?"

"No," he quickly responded, but didn't explain further, "-'M just tellin' ya I ain't lettin' it happen again."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Rick paused a second, ripping another paper towel off and dabbing at your nose. It was probably still bleeding a little bit.

You just watched him, waiting for an explanation. Even though, you weren't entirely sure he was going to give you one.

"Anyone touches ya, says anythin' to ya, so much as looks at ya the wrong way-" he listed, tone deadly serious (it shook through your skull), "-ya come get me, and I’ll set 'em straight. Understand?"

Your mouth moved before you could stop it, "What?"

"I'll handle it," he repeated, pulling away the paper towel and locking eyes with yours, "-It ain't happenin' again."

"Rick," you laughed -incredulously, and maybe a little defensive, "-I don't need a fucking guard dog. I can handle myself."

"'Didn’t say 'at," he hummed, carefully, eyes skimming along your face -a little like he was in wonder (it made your head spin a second), "-'S for me, not ya."

"How does that-"

"If 'ey're fuckin' with ya, 'ey're fuckin' with me," he interrupted, eyes so solid that you couldn't really look away, "-you can handle it how ya want, but Imma 'ave some choice words of my own. So, send 'em my way too."

The words faltered in your throat, something swirling around your heart. He was just so-

The coppery taste again.

You shriveled up your nose in disgust, and Rick laughed at it (something gleaming in his eye), as you reacted -spitting the taste out into the dirt.

"Yeah, keep laughing, Grimes," you tsked, but there was no bite, not really. Not like there used to be, "-I'll beat the shit out of you."

"'Ere's no doubt in my mind," he retorted back, smiling in a way that crinkled at the eyes. You thought for a spare second it was a beautiful one, that maybe he was beautiful.

After that day, you'd say that everything was a little confusing.

These feelings towards Rick were far from new, very far. They'd always kind of been in the very back of your mind. Part of you was actually pretty sure that hating him had in some way distanced you from what you felt otherwise. Now, that is to say, you had definitely hated him at one point. That just didn't mean that it erased the... other thing.

You and Rick were off-kilter. Or at least you were. You guessed you couldn't say anything about him, he was very much a mystery to you at this point.

He just kept doing things. Like the scratch and nosebleed. And every time he'd smile at you a bit warmer, say something you couldn't really avoid. Not anymore. (And you weren't sure you wanted to avoid, honestly.)

And he'd looked at you a lot more, searched you out (when before you used to shun each other, avoid each other), and just smiled at you sometimes for no reason. The thing was you didn't mind it. You wanted him to. Because you... because it was all different.

You were confused, but you weren't going to be the one to encroach on it. It all felt so surreal, that one day something would happen and you'd just snap right back into place -just like before. To be fair, you still argued. But, it was moreso bickering now. And even if it wasn't, before you could get as heated as you used to, you compromised -easily.

You slotted together perfectly and bounced off each other with ease. Hell, he started coming to you about running Alexandria, about problems he couldn't quite get. And the two of you would talk until you worked out a solution. Because you always did.

It made no sense why you'd even clashed in the first place.

You were confused, beyond confused. And you wanted things, wanted to ask things, but they seemed dangerous. Far away-

That brought you here, on a night when you couldn't sleep. Which were more frequent nowadays, if you were completely honest. This whole situation made your mind run for a lot of different reasons, and when it wasn't that, it was nightmares. Alexandria was safe, you knew that, but it didn't necessarily stop your fight or flight -the urge to constantly be on edge, protect.

So, sometimes you sat here on the steps of your porch in the night -the chill and silence of it soothed you. It wouldn't always get you back to sleep, but it would make you feel better. Remind yourself that you're breathing. That you're alive.

You exhaled, trailing your finger along the wood of the railing beside you -absorbing the low buzz of bugs in the air and the strangely familiar groans of walkers outside the walls. It was kinda fucked up that it calmed you down, but you gave yourself a pass.

"Funny seein' ya 'ere."

Your eyes shot up and latched onto his.

The Grimes house was just a couple of houses down, diagonal to yours. So, you could see him, but not entirely clearly.

He was leaning on the porch railing, you could see the sleeves of his jacket against the starch white, and his hair seemed a little messy -your eyes trailed over a particular curl. It was hanging slightly down in front of his face. (You got the urge to fix it, comb it back into place.)

"'Could say the same to you, Grimes," you replied.

You saw him smile, dropping his head to look at the ground. It made something in your chest flutter. But, before you could say anything else, he was stepping down from his porch and making his way to you.

As he got closer you recognized that he was in pajamas with just a jacket thrown over.

He stood just at the bottom of the stairs, leaning onto the railing slightly and just looking at you. Like he always did these days. With worry and... something else.

"Nightmare?" he questioned, genuinely.

You rolled your lip around your teeth, deciding to say, "Kind of."

Rick's lips pressed into a frown, eyes glazing along your face (you didn't look back at him), "Can I sit?"

You were wordless, but moved slightly to the left (despite not really needing to) as unspoken acceptance. He stared at you for a second longer, before slowly but surely making his way to the steps. He sat closer to you than you thought he would've, but it was almost in character of him to do something that surprises you so.

"Ya cold?"

On cue, you shivered slightly, "I've had worse."

Rick let out a low sigh (he knew you well now), nudging off his jacket and hanging it squarely on your shoulders without hesitation. His eyes trailed over you wearing it for a moment, a small look in his eyes that you couldn't name. All shiny as his lips quirked up just a smidgen.

"You don't have to do that," you objected, but it was quiet and weak.

"I want to," he replied, simply.

You couldn't argue with that. Hell, you didn't think you could argue with him anymore-

Rick interrupted the thought, eyebrows furrowed in that kind of way you knew to be worried, "What do ya mean 'kinda'?"

You took a second, staring out into the night -listening to the silence.

"My mind won't stop," you clarified, "-sometimes it's... things I've done, and other times it's... things that I just can't seem to figure out."

"What's it today?"

You pursed your lips a minute, before answering, "Something I can't figure out."

He stared at you, blue eyes flickering along your face in a hazy sort of way. It made something unfurl in your chest that you'd tried to keep shoved down, "Is 'ere anythin' I can do to help?"

You ran the idea through your head a few times, and let your eyes match him a few more. You aren't entirely sure why, but talking to Rick fel a little like he'd never judge you. Even though he had before, it was... it was now. Things were very different.

"Can I ask you a question?" you spoke, then, deflecting a little.

"Shoot," he responded, almost instantly. ( A little like he'd do anything you'd ask.)

"What happened to us?"

Rick's eyebrows furrowed, and you took it as a motion to keep talking, to explain. So, you did.

"We used to-" you dropped your hands on your lap, and stared out into the Alexandrian streets, "-We used to scream at each other until our faces turned red. We couldn't stand each other, and now..."

"'At ain't a good thing?" he questioned, something in his tone a little disappointed (it made your head swirl a little), "-'At it changed, I mean."

"It is," you reassured, facing him a second, "-but I just... Isn't it confusing?"

Rick stayed silent a second, eyes smoothing along your face. Just looking, like maybe he thought you were beautiful (just like you did on that day), or maybe like he never wanted to forget what you looked like.

"No."

You pressed your lips together.

"Don't get me wrong," he clarified with a smile, "-I hated ya once, a long time ago. But 'is? Now? It makes sense."

You asked before you could think about it, "What is 'this'?"

He just stared at you a second, something flickering through his eyes, careful and considerate. Something warm. The warmth you kept seeing now, the one you tried to avoid.

"You," he answered, vaguely, "-Us."

"What does that mean?" you asked, your confusion was ever-so-clear. This was all things you didn't understand.

He didn't say anything, as you stared out into the streets -watching some of the porch lights flicker. The night sky was still dark, so you weren't really worried about the hour.

And then, you felt calloused fingers on your chin -guiding you back to his eyes. The thoughts cleared out of your head.

"Y/N, you drive me fuckin' crazy," he laughed a little, and you felt your eyebrows furrow, "-not just in a frustratin' sorta way. You... I worry about ya like crazy, I think of ya like crazy... I care 'bout ya like crazy-"

Your heart skipped a beat.

"-an' I... I love ya like crazy."

Your lips felt stitched shut, as he just smiled at you -something in his eyes that you could see now. You could identify.

"Ya poke and prod at me until I'm reelin', yeah, but-" he pressed his lips together, eyes shimmering across your face, "-I wouldn't 'ave it any other fuckin' way. An' I mean 'at. I just... I'm not me without ya annoyin' the shit out of me. Without ya callin' me out on my shit."

You laughed, something burning the backs of your eyes, "I am the only one who would do that, huh?"

"Ya are," he grinned at you, and you felt something in your chest squeeze tight.

It felt clear then, abundantly clear.

"I love you too, Grimes."

He grinned, the big kind that crinkled at the eyes, "Thought so."

You rolled your eyes, with no bite, "Oh shut up, sheriff. I could still kick your ass, and you would deserve it."

He laughed, the genuine kind -hand coming to cradle your cheek, "Still, don't doubt it, sweetheart."

You smiled, and noticed just how close the two of you were. He only seemed to be roaming closer, and it made your heartbeat pick up in your chest a little. Before you could stop it, your eyes dipped down to his lips.

He grinned again, the kind that rattle down to your core, all handsome and shiny white teeth. And then, he started moving closer, his own eyes dipping to your lips.

"Ya kno', I can think of a way to get me to shut up."

"Can you?" you teased, quiet between the two of you.

He just hummed, distracted. It made something in your stomach stir.

"I am pretty desperate for you to," you remarked -playfully.

Rick busted into laughter, a loud kind that you barely ever heard from him. It made something in your chest shimmer, proud. You kind of wanted to hear that forever. And now, maybe you could.

The thought made you grin, as you leaned forward, impatiently, and connected your lips to his. It was just a press of lips, but you did feel him lean into it. Before you could get far, he laughed even more, breaking off the kiss, and it made you laugh.

"'Course ya can't wait for one second," he chuckled -playfully, "-You've always been so damn impatient."

"Oh, fuck you, Grimes," you laughed into the night, "-You're lucky I don't-"

And this time, he shut you up.

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#48: The Wedding Plans (1.05)

Of all the Jadis and Father Gabriel flashbacks, this was the best one right here because we get to learn something so special - Rick wanted to have a wedding with Michonne. 😭 Officially marrying his wife is one of the many milestones that trifling Jadis stole from them, and Michonne also addresses some other missed milestones Jadis took from them as they hunt her down 🚖...

Flashing back to two years ago, Jadis and Father Gabriel have another one of their annual meetings in the forest. Jadis asks, “How’s Rick’s wife doing?” And I do like hearing Michonne be referred to as 'Rick’s wife' by someone, even tho it’s one of my least favorite someones.

Father Gabriel says, “Michonne? She’s away helping people.” And even with this, I was like...SIR, are you at all curious why Jadis is curious about how Rick’s wife - who Jadis wasn’t close to - is doing? Like, please...

I'm not even saying Father Gabriel needed to immediately put together that Jadis had anything to do with Rick, since he, like many, thought Rick died. But still, he could have at least been a bit more suspicious of Jadis' whole situation and told some people back home about her and her helicopter.

And then I’m side-eying Father Gabriel again when he asks, “Why did you call her his wife?” Gabe, you have to ask? 😑 Lol, I know it’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but, the second I even realized these two were having these yearly meet-ups, everything they said and did had me looking at both of them like...

Jadis says, “I mean, wasn’t she?” And I just know she’s thinking about how Rick barely says five words to her in Philly and most of those words are about his wife. 😋

Father Gabriel says, “Well not officially. If that matters anymore.” I said now Father G, I know you see Michonne every day raising those kids and wearing a wedding ring around her neck. That’s Rick’s wife, stop playing. 

Also, in TWD I was proud of Father Gabriel when he had his whole evolution into a real one and became a valued member of the group. But seeing TOWL made me remember that while Father G has grown a lot, this man did in fact enter this franchise with snake tendencies.

Had me wondering if his snake past is what makes him intrinsically drawn to this snake Jadis. But little does Father G know, that while he's actually tried to improve himself, Jadis is still slithering through life and causing so much harm.

Something I do like about this exchange between them tho is it feels like yet another thing TOWL came to set the record straight on regarding Richonne. Like for all the viewers that used to comment “no ring, no marriage,” stuff about Richonne, this was TOWL being like nope, Rick and Michonne are and have long been husband and wife, period. 👌🏽

This show didn't allow any room to downplay, discredit, or dismiss who Rick and Michonne are to each other and how much they mean to each other and I'll always appreciate TOWL for that. 😌

Then we get to the best part of these Jadis/Father Gabriel flashbacks when Father Gabriel says, “It’s funny. One day, Rick said that I should marry them. Maybe we should do it right there on the bridge that we were building”

Y’all. 🫠 When I tell you I was gagged when I heard that the first time.

I had been ready for them to just hurry this Jadis/Father G scene up but then I heard that line and...

I adore that we got to learn that Rick wanted to have a wedding and was making plans for it before he was taken. He wanted to marry Michonne on the bridge. 🥹 The very bridge he was then taken from her for years. 🥺

Watching Rick's season 9 episodes back, they’re now even better knowing that making his marriage to Michonne official was on his mind. It’s almost like you can see it with certain scenes, even tho obviously this detail was more added in TOWL rather than pre-planted in TWD.

It’s so sweet too because Rick was so adamant about that bridge being completed and I love knowing that it was both because of its practicality/symbolism of unity bringing the communities together and because it was where he and Michonne could celebrate their own special union with a wedding.

gif cred: @perryabbott

This was esepcially great to hear because I had always felt that Rick would be the type to give Michonne a ring and want that traditional solidification of their marriage. So it was nice to hear these details that show he really was working on it. 🥹

Also, another TWD scene that becomes extra emotional upon learning that Rick wanted to marry Michonne on the bridge is Michonne’s first scene post-Rick in 9.06.

Michonne goes to the destroyed bridge years later and essentially expresses how she’s still so committed to Rick and still fighting for him and them and their family. It’s almost like she's saying vows.

And little did Michonne know (because I’m sure Father Gabriel’s secret-squirrel behind didn’t tell her) that bridge is the very place Rick wanted them to exchange vows and get married. 😭

Rick truly does look at Michonne and see his future because he had big plans for the two of them in season 9. He was fully ready to have a wedding and a baby with her in his final TWD eps.

Also, in the season 8 premiere, Maggie asks Rick if he’s been thinking about what 'tomorrow' looks like and he confidently says "Yes I have" as well as telling Maggie, "After this, I’m following you."

I already always got the sense that part of that meant Rick was thinking about expanding his family by having a baby with Michonne. But I like how now after TOWL that s8 scene really reads like Rick was thinking about having a baby with Michonne and officially marrying her. That's what he wanted his 'tomorrow' to look like. 🥲

And a Richonne bridge wedding would have been beautiful. 🥹 In my head, Rick and Michonne definitely go on to have a wedding with their kids a part of it now that they’re back home. 

Father Gabriel says, “But I couldn’t see the future he described, so I sat on a log in the forest, and there at my feet in the dirt right in front of me was a ring. It seemed like it’d make a pretty nice wedding ring.”

See, see, see, even when others don’t see your vision, God gon’ see the vision. And He always makes a way. Amen. 🙌🏽

And Richonne is blessed and highly favored so of course a ring showed up. 😇

But then...y’all, I have to side-eye Father Gabriel yet again with what he does next.

Father Gabriel says how he picked up the ring and thought to put it someplace that Rick would find it “because I could suddenly see that someday” and then this man takes the ring out, revealing that he’s been holding onto it all these years 🙃...

Um imo, it would have been nice if shortly after the bridge he had told this story to Michonne and let her decide what she wanted to do with the ring.

Michonne clearly finds a lot of solace in these types of sentimental items and wore a wedding ring around her necklace. It could have possibly been a comforting thought for her to know this was the ring Rick might have proposed with since he was planning on them getting formally married with a priest and everything.

IDK, this was just making me feel like team family tried Michonne once again. 

Father Gabriel says sadly, “But then what happened, happened.” And Jadis, perhaps masking remorse but still as self-centered as always, just starts talking about how she looks forward to their next visit and the chance to just sit and talk and feel like who she was. How can she be so unmoved by the fact that she’s kept two people who love each other dearly apart for years? She got to have moments of feeling like who she was while Rick lost himself day by day. 😑

Jadis starts opening up a bit more about what she does and how it weighs on her but she’s committed to the mission and...they just can never make me like Jadis, tbh. 😪 Even when she's supposed to be showing her more human side I'm still just like...

And then Father Gabriel gets one more side-eye from me when he gives Jadis of all people that ring. What? 🙃

The only thing I like about that choice to give her the ring is that it’s kinda like the ring had a similar journey to Rick. It was stuck with Jadis for years but then eventually found its way to its rightful person - Michonne. 👌🏽

But otherwise, I was like 'Father G, why would you...???' Jadis of all people should hold onto the ring he found for Rick to give to Michonne?? 😪 Wasn’t exactly here for that choice. But that wedding ring leads to not one but two of my absolute favorite Richonne moments going forward so it’s all good now. 😌👌🏽

gif cred: @perryabbott

In the present, Rick and Michonne engage in a car chase with Jadis.

Rick says they can’t kill her but Michonne begs to differ saying, “Oh we can.” I promise Michonne and I stay on the same wavelength at all times lol. 💁🏽‍♀️ Michonne,...

Rick says, “I told you, she left a file about home for the CRM to find.” Michonne knows Jadis is just a neverending source of destruction when she says, “To destroy Alexandria because that’s what she does, Rick. She destroys!” Wrong where? 💯

Also, I love the little detail of seeing Michonne is wearing the M bracelet while she’s driving. Like they had to rush to get dressed and go chase after Jadis but Michonne still said I’m gonna remember to put on this bracelet from my man before we go. Here for it. 😊

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

And then I so appreciate that we get a moment for Richonne to acknowledge the valuable and important life moments and milestones Rick missed because of Jadis as Michonne says, “She robbed us of you being there to see your son being born. Taking his first step.” 😭

I love that she says robbed ‘us’ because Rick being there to see his son being born and RJ's first steps would have been such incredibly special moments for Rick and Michonne to share. 😢

And Jadis really took that from them. Because while yes Rick was going to need the kind of medical assistance the Civic Republic could provide to survive the injuries he got from that rebar, he eventually would have been healed up enough to go home and recover there and be present for at least the tail end of Michonne’s pregnancy and birth. If only he hadn’t been held captive somewhere he couldn’t leave. 😞

Then I absolutely adore that, upon hearing Michonne mention super special milestones that Rick has missed in his wife and son’s life, Rick is immediately on the kill-Jadis train as he says, “Okay, what do we do after she’s dead?” I love the switch-up and how he’s instantly on board. 😋 He knows Jadis has got to go for, as he said before, stealing their family.

Michonne says they’ll do whatever they have to do and sis is not playing. 👏🏽 Jadis ain’t making it out of today alive if Michonne has anything to do with it.

gif cred: @nerd4music

Michonne rams into Jadis’ car and then they eventually get Jadis to crash off the path. As they continue their Jadis hunt down on foot, Jadis flees and enlists the help of that one noodle-less trio. She clearly has a scheme in mind because one thing about a snake...

In the woods, Rick tells Michonne that the CRM's bases are spread out across the country and they have to figure out which one Jadis hid the dossier in. Rick suggests there might be a route where they can take Jadis alive and talk to her to get some info.

Rick notes how Jadis clearly hated being called Anne and he thinks that the Anne-version of Jadis is still in there somewhere. (Both versions gotta go, in my book 🤷🏽‍♀️)

He says, “If there’s something she can give us first - something to keep Alexandria safe.” But Michonne feels they don’t need Jadis for that when she says, “We’ll keep it safe." And then, determined for Jadis to meet her maker before the sun sets, Michonne adamantly says, "But she’s gonna die.”

You already know I'm with that energy. But I get where Rick is coming from too as he says, “We need to keep it safe without risking anything."

Rick then adds, "I couldn’t see some things. I couldn’t. You helped me. Maybe we can help her, and if we can’t...” And Michonne is in her full deadly mode as she finishes Rick’s sentence saying, “Then I can kill her.” She is not interested in deprogramming that lady. 😂

gif cred: @taiturner

First; I love that Rick stays giving Michonne credit for how she helped him. He knows that after the mental warfare the CRM did on him, he was finally able to see the light - the real light not ‘the last light of the world’ - because of his wife.

And second; it’s admirable that Rick has it in his heart to want to help even someone who has done him so wrong. However…Jadis done had too many chances for help and she squandered it or took advantage of it every time cuz she’s a snake through and through. So the time for helping her has passed, which is why Michonne is hellbent on killing her.

gif cred: @taiturner

Rick says, “Be my guest." because while he knows Jadis can be a resource to getting things they need, he also doesn't mind if she gets sent six feet under. I mean, killing her was a dream of his so he gets it. 👌🏽

Then Rick says, "Maybe just maim first.” and that delivery is great and always makes me smile. 😊 Rick trying to talk killing down to maiming - you can tell he knows his wife is gonna rip Jadis up somehow someway for everything she’s done to him and their family.

gif cred: @taiturner

I don’t think Michonne even quite heard Rick's 'maim' comment cuz she spots some fresh blood on a tree and as a lethal woman on the hunt, she’s immediately ready to follow where it leads. And as they go, this pursuit leads to Richonne's final confrontation with Jadis. 😌👌🏽

[ghostboneswrites2]

You Were Found

Part 2 to You Ran

Summary: Daryl finds you holding your ground against the Saviors.

18+ MDNI || Warnings: heavy profanity, TWD typical violence, minor mention of reader’s past abuse

        All things considered you were doing alright. In a survival sense, at least. You were fed most of the time, hadn’t been bit, and had a half ass decent amount of luck in finding water. One other fronts, though, things had been tough. You holed up in a beat down gas station off the highway. Another group — one that seemed to have numbers — frequently rode through and cause you problems. Their beef wasn’t with you, but it affected you nonetheless. 

        “Drop the bag, miss.” 

        “No.” 

        This man gave you the most shit. Any time he saw you he tried to rob you or sleep with you. It typically didn’t work out in his favor. 

        “Now, what are you doing with that?” He chuckled, nodding to your gun. “Looks a little heavy, darlin’. Why don’t ya hand it over? Let a strong man like me carry— Ahh!”

        A shit fired and he fell to the ground, clutching his leg. What he mistook for poor sim was simply your sights being set on his fibula. You smirked and shifted your weight onto one leg, propping your unarmed hand on your hip. 

        “Oops.” You said in mock innocence. “My finger slipped.” 

        “You fucking bitch! I’ll fucking kill you!” He cried out, writhing in pain on the cracked concrete. 

        “Looks like you’re gonna need a few weeks to recover first.” You shrugged, strolling to his side. You crouched down and looked him over, hissing. “Oh, man. Looks like that hurts.” You taunted. 

        Was it cruel? Yes. You justified it by recalling each time some patronizing, misogynistic, disrespectful bullshit escaped past his paper-thin lips. 

        “Hey.” You cooed as he sobbed. “Hey, hey, hey…” You hushed, lacing a hand on his shoulder. “Hold still.” 

        You went to examine his wound, but instead you slipped his gun from his holster and tucked it into your waistband. 

        You leaned in close and whispered, “Figured it might be too heavy now, you know, with that leg.” 

        You stood and walked away, tuning out the enraged cries of the man on the ground. 

        From the trees across the high way, it was quite an interesting exchange to witness. The eyes of a trained hunter, belonging to a man that had tracked you for miles, watched with a blend of scrutiny and intrigue. 

        As your silhouette faded into the shattered glass doors of your gas station hideaway, he stepped out onto the street, scanning the landscape. With no sign of imminent threat, he strode across the way, heavy boots stopping before the man who was sure to bleed out within the hour. Blue eyes traced the man’s features. He wasn’t the man who Daryl had crossed paths with while leading the horde away from Alexandria some weeks back. No, but he had a feeling he was from that same crew of morally depraved imbeciles. 

        “The fuck you lookin’ at, asshole?” The man spat from the ground. His voice trembled with agony. 

        “Just some other asshole that got his ass handed to him by a girl.” Daryl shrugged. The man scoffed. 

        “That bitch’s days are fuckin’ numbered.” He spewed threats as he desperately cling to the last threads of live, before they were cut short. 

        “Looks like you might be the one runnin’ outta time.” Daryl mumbled. 

        “Shut up and help me, man.” The man pleaded. 

        “Nah.” Daryl shook his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled his half empty pack of cigarettes out, bending down and propping one between the man’s lips. He flipped his zippo open and lit it before standing upright and tucking his cigarettes away again. The man puffed and sighed. 

        Daryl tossed a final glance at the dying individual before he strolled inside. Upon first notice, the place looked desolate; barren of life or even walking death. Daryl knew better, though. Somewhere in the poorly lit ruins of a convenience store, you were waiting, lurking, searching for your moment to pounce. In all truth, walking in there blind out him at quite the disadvantage. 

        He was banking on the possibility of your recognition of the man who once meddled in your life and ultimately put you in a situation that forced you to run in the first place. He hoped that’d be enough for you to spare him some time to place his cards on the table, and more than that, he hoped you’d accept his hand. He hoped his deck held the trump card he thought it did, and that you’d be willing to recognize what he really had to offer.  

        “Coming to avenge your buddy?” A familiar voice called from behind the counter. 

        “Nah. Came to retrieve somebody.” He replied casually. “Someone who’s been missin’ a long time.” 

        “Sounds like they might not wanna be found if they’ve been missing that long.” You sighed. The hell was he doing there after all this time?

        “‘M sure they don’t.” He shrugged. “‘M here for ‘em anyways. Had somethin’ I thought they might like to know.”

        “I’m not so sure there’s anything worth telling them after all that time.” You stood from behind the counter. He eyed you. 

        “Maybe they could just hear what I got to say.”

        “Maybe you should lay it all out then.” You crossed your arms. 

        “Alright.” He nodded, taking a step closer. “Well, for starters, I been lookin’ for ya almost every day. Me and Aaron.” 

        “And you found me. So what?”

        “That asshole ain’t ‘round anymore.” 

        “And that’s supposed to make me want to come back?” You scoffed. “I’m takin’ real good care of myself, thanks.” 

         “Yeah, ‘til them assholes find their dead friend outside and his killer hangin’ out in here.” He countered. 

        “Then I find somewhere else.” You rolled your eyes. 

        “Don’t have to, though. Got a whole community waitin’ for ya.”

        “The same one that watched me get beat for a year and turned the other cheek?” You raised an eyebrow. “I mean really, they should send better representatives ‘cause I’m not buyin’ what you’re sellin’.”

        “Ain’t the same community no more.” He pressed on. “Things ‘ve changed there.”

        “Doubt it.”

        “Come see for yourself.” 

        “No thanks.” 

        “Look, just let me take ya back. See for yourself. If ya don’t like it you can go. I did my part.”

        “Your part?” You laughed incredulously. “What — Are you wrestling with some insatiable guilt or something? Here, let me put you at ease. You didn’t do anything but set me free. There. Your burden is lifted; you’re free to go.” 

        “Ain’t about guilt. It’s about—“

        “What is it about?” A man asked, suddenly strolling inside. “Does it have anything to do with my dead friend out there?”

        Daryl and you looked between each other then back at the man. 

        “See, that’s the third one of my friends to go missing in six months. But, I only see two lives here. Does there…” The man searched around. “… Happen to be a third life bidding around here so where? You know, to pay your debt?”

        “I don’t owe you shit.” You glared. Daryl shook his head at you. You ignored him and continued.  “Those assholes tried to rob me.” 

        “I see.” He nodded. “I get it, you know. Defending your territory and whatnot, but.. Well, ya see the issue with that is this isn’t your territory. It’s ours. Has been for a long time.”

        “I didn’t see a sign.” You challenged. 

        “Oh.” He chuckled. “I’ll be sure to make one out of your—“

        His body fell to the ground with a thud, an arrow protruding from his skull. 

        “C’mon, (Y/N), we gotta get outta here now.” Daryl urged. You stayed out, feet planted in the soil of your stubbornness. “Quit bein’ so damn bill-headed and let’s go!” He demanded  he had witnessed what those men were capable of — the ones from that group. That would make four men they had lost to you — and now Daryl — and he had no intentions of sticking around to see their reaction.

        Tires screeched in the distance, headlights rolling into view. Without hesitation, you bolted toward the back exit. “Ah, shit.” You groaned. “Follow me.”

        With Daryl in toe, the two of you melted into the trees behind the small building, ducked down in the underbrush to watch as five more men tore apart the gas station, shouting between each other..

        “My bike’s not far. We should go.” He whispered.

        “You rode a bike here?” 

        “A motorcycle, idiot! Come on!” He hissed. You followed him between trees, running for what felt like two miles. The voices of people never stayed far behind. They were on your tail, just not close enough to catch you. For the first time since you used to cower from the fist of a man, you felt afraid. Adrenaline coursed through you as you slapped beaches and flies from your face. Sweat burned your eyes, blurring your vision as you tried to keep up with the prestigious woodsman ahead. 

        A break in the trees came into view, Daryl stopping to lift his bike from where he buried it in a tarp and leaves. He rolled it I got he street with haste and cranked the engine. You threw your leg over the back with no question, and he took off. You clung to his waist to steady yourself as wind smacked hair across your cheeks. Gunshots rang out behind you. Over your shoulder, you could see some of them men spilling out into the street, weapons aimed. 

        You pulled your pistol from your waist and held your arm out behind you, firing rounds at them as they faded from view. You could see one of them drop just as they disappeared behind the horizon. 

Taglist || Masterlist

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