#TWD blurb

[daddydixonscrossbow]

*Daryl is teaching you how to shoot his crossbow*

Y/n - *aiming at the target* “So.. like this?”

Daryl - *walking up behind you* “Yeah, basically, you just..” *he lays his hand on yours, moving your fingers down* “keep them down, or it’ll take’em clean off, a’right?”

Y/n - *glancing back at him* “Then I just.. shoot?”

Daryl - *places his hands on your hips and turns them* “Make sure your feet are planted, but I mean, if ya ever need-“

*you shoot, hitting the target right in the center*

Daryl - *scoffs* “You’ve shot before, haven’t ya?”

Y/n - *smiling as you hand him his bow back* “I just wanted you to put your hands on me.”

Daryl - *takes his bow and pulls you in by the waist* “Why didn’t ya jus’say so, hmm?”

——

Here’s a kiss for likin’ and rebloggin’💋

[itsgrimeytime]

when someone yells at you... || Rick Grimes (TWD)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

"That was all your goddamn fault!"

And maybe it was just because you were tired, but something in you agreed with him -you knew you could do better than this.

"Look, okay, I'm sorry-" you tried -something weak and shaky in your tone (you were exhausted and all they were saying was making all of the noise in your head louder), "-I never meant to-"

"Fuck that," he hissed, "-you almost got us all killed with that fucking mistake. Don't you get that?!"

"It was just-" you started, slowly -words trying to come out properly.

"Just shut the fu-"

"What the hell is goin' on 'ere?" a voice boomed -southern drawl emphasized and tone unshaken: Rick Grimes.

He stepped in between the two of you.

You were exhausted, hands coming up to rub at your temples. Eyes were getting a little foggy and your lip was trembling, you couldn't falter. It could only make you lose respect in the grand scheme of things. You took a deep breath in.

"'Ey fucked up the whole run," the person explained, and you shrunk into yourself more, "-gave one wrong order, and fucking Nancy almost bit the goddamn bullet, Rick."

Rick just stared at him -something heavy in his gaze.

"You must not know shit 'bout this world," Rick scoffed, and you could see the slow steps of him approaching the man -you couldn't even remember his name, "-but every win 'ere's a hundred damn loses. Judgin' one person for a mistake, ya see, just ain't fuckin' wise."

"Somebody almost died, Rick," the man countered, "-don't you care about your people? Or have you lost that side of yourself too?"

Rick rushed forward then, grabbing the guy by his collar and raising him into the air. Your heart jolted into your throat.

"I'll feed you to the fuckin' walkers if ya keep talkin' like that."

The man seemed to falter, but you saw a gleam in Rick's eye. A dangerous gleam.

The group was already rocky as is, Rick didn't need to lose any respect. He didn't need to string out the dynamic further. One move and it'd tip.

"Rick," you insisted -hands wringing out in front of your chest, and his eyes almost immediately flashed to you, "-it's not worth it."

He seemed to lighten then, scanning over you. Maybe taking in your hands, or your hunched shoulders, or your blurry eyes. It was like his priorities switched, completely focused on you.

He let out a long sigh, dropping the man to the ground -he fumbled a little with his footing, "'Ey saved your life, remember 'at."

The man seemed shaken, swallowing thickly and blinking like he was trying to center himself. Rick merely focused entirely on you, heavy footfall bringing him right in front of you.

"Ya okay?" He spoke, soft and sweet -such a drastic difference from before that it made your head spin a little.

"I'm..." you echoed out, a little pathetically, "-I'm just exhausted, and being berated at like that doesn't really help."

Rick frowned, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and guiding you elsewhere -voice low just for you, "C'mon, let's talk somewhere else."

"I'm just tired," you offered but it was weak, and he didn't seem at all moved by it, or even convinced.

He pulled you into his house, off the Alexandria streets -it was strangely empty. No Judith or Carl, and you briefly wondered where they were.

"Sit," he motioned to the couch.

You paused for a moment, "Rick, you don't have to do this-"

"Sit," he repeated.

You silently found yourself a spot, leaning into the arm of it -Rick joined you, barely a breath away. You weren't sure how to react. You were never really sure with Rick.

"If anybody pulls 'at shit again," he suddenly said -blue eyes solid as steel, "-you tell me, okay?"

"Rick-"

"No," he spoke, so solidly it made your voice stutter to a stop, "-nobody talks to ya 'at way and fuckin' gets away wit' it. Ya hear me?"

"Yeah, okay," you responded -softer, "-I get it."

"I don't mean to be-" he paused, turning to you with a much softer glance -blue eyes warm, "-look, Y/N. I really care about ya, and if somebody says shit 'bout you. They might as well be sayin' shit 'bout me."

"They weren't talking shit, Rick," you exhaled, and something in your voice shook, "-I fucked up. Bad."

"'At's not-" he sighed, scooting closer to you and with a solid breath taking your hand in his, "-Everybody fucks up, ain't no reason to dwell on it. Ain't no reason to yell 'bout it like he was."

"He just got scared."

"Everyone's fuckin' scared, sweetheart," he countered, gruff voice in a low whisper, "-Gives 'im no goddamn excuse to yell at ya like 'at."

You frowned, shakingly wiping at your eyes.

"And, 's important to let go of things," he hummed, squeezing his hand around yours, "-ya just gotta remember nobody got hurt. If ya don't, you're only gonna run yourself into the ground."

You were quiet for a moment, eyes swimming over your connected hands thoughtfully. They darted to his, who were already looking at you -something you didn't quite recognize shining in his eyes. There was something there you couldn't quite read -something different. You just did what felt right.

"Thanks," you said quietly -it was all you could say, moving your head to his shoulder.

"Don't-" he hummed, you could feel the grumble in his chest -arm coming to wrap around your side, "-Ya don't 'ave to thank me."

You stayed in the silence of the moment, absorbing the air. All of this... new, it sunk into your skin. Your nose filled with the woodsy scent that you knew to be just Rick, and you had a spare thought.

Maybe this could happen again, but you knew Rick would be there. Maybe that makes it okay. It does... With Rick, it's okay.

"Yeah," you responded -maybe a little fondly, "-I do."

[enid-rhees]

espresso || enid rhee x fem!reader

summary: enid is just way too addicting, even at 3am.

genre: SMUT. MDNI. contains oral (enid receiving)

Enid is so fucking sweet.

with your tongue buried deep inside of her, you can’t help but moan at the taste of her. one of Enid’s hands is tangled in your hair, pulling at the strands each time your thrust your tongue, the other is covering her mouth, muffling her pretty moans.

everyone was sleeping, but you couldn’t. not when you had Enid beside you, rutting herself into your thigh until you broke, slipping her shorts off and shoving your face between her thighs. she always knew how to break you — she didn’t even have to do much. you loved making Enid feel good, it was almost an addiction.

you attached your lips to Enid’s clit, replacing your tongue with your fingers in her wet cunt. she cried out against her hand, unable to keep in her moans. usually, you loved when Enid was noisy, but with everyone else that was in the house, it was too risky. although you wouldn’t mind them hearing you at least once, letting them know how good you always make Enid feel.

the sleepiness you felt 10 minutes ago was completely gone, all of your energy was now focused on Enid and only her. your hands gripped her thighs and you sucked harder. Enid grinded her hips up into your mouth, trying anything to get more friction from your tongue.

god, Enid just tasted too good. you could eat her out for hours. you opened your eyes and made eye contact with Enid, and she struggled to keep her moans quiet when she locked eyes with yours. she knew what you were doing to her, she loved it every time.

you pulled your lips off of her clit, “take your hand away.” you demanded with a raspy voice, and Enid didn’t need to be told twice. you slowly moved up her body, kissing and sucking up her stomach and stopping at her breasts. her nipples were hard and aching, begging to be touched by you. your lips connected to one, and your hand gripped the other. Enid yelped in response, her hand going back to hold your head in place.

“oh- y/n… please.” she whimpered. your other hand continued to thrust into her at a fast pace. “please… ohgod- please, i need- i need to-“ Enid was cut off by her own moans, throwing her head down on the pillow as her moans now filled the room. you didn’t care about the risk anymore. “what? finish your sentence, baby.” you whispered against her skin.

“i need to cum, please… please let me cum.” she whimpered. it was too late in the night to tease her and keep her from her orgasm, your pretty girl needed to sleep. “okay, baby. do it, then. cum for me… cum on my fingers.” with one more forceful thrust of your fingers, Enid came with a loud moan as she covered your fingers in her slick.

gently, you removed your fingers and brought them up to your lips, not taking your eyes off Enid has you sucked them clean. you moaned at the taste, “god, sweetheart. you taste so fucking good, you have no idea.” Enid grabbed your face and pulled your lips onto hers, shoving her tongue down your throat.

your lips moved together sloppily, strings of spit still connecting between your lips each time you pulled away. Enid was the first to pull away, she pushed you over so you were now next to her, and tucked herself into your side, resting her head on your chest.

you pressed a kiss to her head. “i love you, sweetheart. get some rest, we have work to do tomorrow.” Enid nodded and pressed a kiss to where her lips were closest to. “i love you more.”

a/n: Enid smut as an apology for my inactivity <3 hope you enjoy 🖤 icon by the beautiful @elisiassideb1tch

[goofygooberdays]

Daryl Dixon: The Walking Dead

“You shoot me again, you best pray I’m dead”

I found all these pictures on Pinterest

[dixonzzgirl]

imagine… 

finding daryl a really cool zippo lighter and seeing him mindlessly flick it open and close throughout the day.

sitting with your feet in his lap while you both relax on the porch swing (alexandria era).

pinky linking instead of full on hand holding. 

finally getting to the playful butt swat stage of your relationship + him winding up his t-shirt and chasing you around the house. 

him praising you whenever you kill an animal: “nice shot, girl.” “look at you.“ “atta girl.” 

reading a book with your legs crossed on his work bench as he tinkers with his bike.

getting a cold and when daryl dips down to kiss your lips, you turn your head away from him. “daryl, don’t! i don’t wanna get you sick!” and then he grabs your chin and presses a firm kiss on your lips anyway.

daryl finds a cowboy hat and drops it on your head. you let out a giggle. “what’s that saying? save a horse, ride a cowboy?” you smirk. his cheeks darken and he turns away from you. “think ya’ got tha’ backwards..” he drawls. “no? pretty sure i’m right…”

eating a lollipop and daryl walks right up and pulls it out of your mouth and puts it in his (or vise versa).

having a journal that you can both communicate in. we all know daryl isn’t the best at communicating his feelings verbally and maybe you aren’t either, so you just write back and forth to each other.

i love the journal idea because you would use it for everything. daryl has to be up early to help rick with something? he’ll scribble a quick “helping rick. come find me.” and as soon as you wake up and feel the void in bed beside you, you go right to the journal.

him getting hard as fuck when you give shane attitude (farm era).

you get into an accident on a run and ending up losing a lot of blood and you wake up later in the infirmary. “ya’ lost a lotta blood,” he says. “then i bet you did too…” you smiled groggily knowing that he gave you some of his (he’s a universal donor).

rubbing aloe vera on his sunburnt skin and he just lets out these sexy ass heavy breaths.

him watching you get visibly frustrated when someone else is helping you with something, but not doing it the way you want it done, so daryl steps in and tells them to get lost.

daryl giving you cold medicine while you’re sick and he makes you take it in front of him and open your mouth to show him that you swallowed it.

a/n: these are my favorite scenarios to imagine when I'm in class :) if you wanna use any of these ideas for a fic, tag me! i'd love to see them!

[darylbae]

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡🩰

i think daryl would definitely not realize it at first, in fact i think the group would notice it before him. rick would see the way daryl's gaze would linger onto you when he'd talk about a risky supply run. rick would of course tell michonne, who would poke a little fun at him. "you like her!" "shut up, i do not!" and it wasn't until he'd laid down for the night, that he had realized it. he'd think about your eyes, and how bright they were when you'd be talking to anybody. he'd think about the nervous tells you had, like bouncing your leg, chewing on your lip and looking around the room. he'd think about how, sometimes annoyingly, bubbly you were no matter what. it would typically bother him how happy you were mid-apocalypse, but he lets it slide more often than not. he would not pick up on this stuff if he didn't have a crush. he'd be hyper-aware of how he acts around you, after admitting to himself he had a crush on you. he'd glance at you, then quickly glance away, but always end up looking back over at you. he'd study your lips and how they moved, wanting nothing more than to feel them on his. most of all, he'd keep it to himself. because the last thing he needs is everyone finding this out. and making your friendship with him tense. carol could see through daryl almost too easily, so she's the only one who can get away with poking the bear. besides you. "you like her, huh?" carol would ask, and daryl would just roll his eyes. "so what?" "do something about it!" daryl had no understanding of 'doing something about it', despite his moody, careless attitude, he cared deeply about your friendship and wanted nothing to ruin that. rick was playing matchmaker and suggested the two of you to go out on a run, much to daryl's dismay. now he'd have to deal with his constant reminder of his crush on you, as well as you. there you were, sat sweetly on the hood of a car waiting for him, a smile plastered onto your face as you spotted him. "ready to go?" you asked, your voice smooth as honey and it had sent shivers up his neck. "get in." he'd mumble. "yes, sir." let's not talk about your use of the word sir, and what it does to him. he couldn't explain it, the authority of the word sir, just hit him in his sweet spot. he'd constantly look out for you on runs, even when going along with others, he'd volunteer to split up but stick with you. it wasn't like you were a nuisance, not all the time anyway, he just loved being there for you. he'd walk behind you, trying to be a gentleman and stop himself from gazing across your body as you walked. you were the total personification of sex. "can i bring this back?" you'd ask, picking up something stupidly unnecessary, this time it was a small, pink, glittery cowboy hat attached to a pink headband. "will it help us?" he'd respond, not even looking your way, but still having to keep you entertained. "no." you'd respond, glum face as you look down at it back on the shelf. "then i think we found our answer." daryl was always a bummer, but you had gotten used to it. you knew how deeply he cared for his people, so what was a little grumpiness. but you'd always return back, and find whatever stupid thing you'd found on a run, sitting on your bed by the end of the day.

[thewalkingdilf]

can we all just agree that daryl would definitely love to smoke a cigarette while you ride his thigh.

his sex drive hasn’t always been able to compare to yours, and him being a decent bit older than you definitely doesn’t help, but he could never deny a little angel like you the pleasure that you craved so badly.

so there you were, propping yourself up in his lap excitedly, getting yourself settled in the perfect position on his denim-clad thigh, with help from daryl’s strong arms keeping you steady while you adjusted yourself, of course.

the cigarette not only helped him relax in his own way, just as you were relaxing by making a mess of his strong thigh- it also served as a way for him to stall, to test your patience, a sort of timer if you will.

you’d rut yourself against him, whining and blubbering about how bad you needed him, meanwhile he’d continue to sit back in his chair, gripping your waist with one hand while the other would be raised toward his mouth, taking a long, deep draw from the cigarette, gently blowing the smoke toward you.

occasionally, if he was in an extra good mood that day, he’d flip his cigarette around in his fingers, resting it between your lips for you to take a couple puffs as well. he was typically against you smoking; he didn’t want someone like you falling into such a bad habit like him, but he couldn’t deny how much he loved to see you like that in the moment; fucking yourself against him so desperately while you blow the smoke in his face, the small nicotine buzz making you feel a bit lightheaded and dizzy, adding to your overwhelming pleasure.

“don’t worry baby, i’ll make you feel good, just lemme finish my smoke, yeah? you can be patient and do that for me, can’t ya’?”

“daryl, please.”

“not yet baby, yer being so good f’ me, i know you can wait a lil’ longer.”

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 𖥔

"promise m’somethin'?" daryl's voice is groggy as the morning sun begins to trickle in through the window. one hand wrapped firmly around your waist as the other runs idle shapes across your face.

you hum in acknowledgment, leaning into his chest, not really wanting to break the silence you had built between you both.

“promise that if anythin’ ever gets real bad, you’ll run.” he doesn’t say it as a question. no. he makes it a statement. he wants you to know how serious he is about it.

you peel your face from his chest to look up at him, his light eyes finding yours immediately in the ill-litted room. there’s a steeliness to them that you’d never seen before, but something far beyond just the depths of his seriousness. there was fear.

“daryl-“ you begin to speak, managing to get nothing out but his name before he shakes his head.

“need ya to promise.” he says it more stern now.

there’s a beat of silence, his eyes scanning your face, trying to gather any information on the answer you’re going to give him. his hope lingers in the air as your fingers run across his skin, like kisses from a ghost, as you reach to touch his cheek.

he instinctively leans into the touch. a fault of his. always craving your touch, no matter the circumstances.

then you shake your head and his heart plummets in his chest. his brain working to come up with a reason but your words overpower his own before he has a chance.

“there’s nothing in this world that will ever make me run anywhere that isn’t straight to you. and you can argue with me all you want, tell me that it’s for my own safety, but i don’t care.”

he’s silent for a second before he speaks, but his voice is small, a whisper in the wind, “please.”

you take in a deep breath, your chest pressed flush to his side as you tangle your fingers with his, “daryl, you can’t ask me to do that.”

“s’why i ain’t askin,” he grumbles, his voice gruff compared to your calm tone. “i need ya safe. i need ya alive.”

you can’t help but stifle a small huff of laughter at his stubbornness, your hand pulling his towards your mouth as you press a soft kiss against his knuckle. you can feel his breathing relax a little at the gesture and you look back up at him in the bed.

“when are you going to get it through your thick skull that this world isn’t worth surviving unless i’m surviving it with you.”

his breathing falters, eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and desire. he still count fathom the fact that anyone could ever care for him, love him, the way you do, but hearing you say that you wouldn’t want to be in this world if it wasn’t with him… it makes his heart swell and ache at the same time.

“y’can’t think like that,” he shakes his head but it’s you who cuts him off this time, pressing your finger to his mouth.

“i can, and i will,” you nod. “if i lose you… i lose everything. i’m not going to let that willingly happen.”

he doesn’t know how to respond, his words getting caught in his throat. he knew you were stubborn, much like him, but he also knew how devoted you were to those you loved, and it confused him every day how lucky he was that he got to be one of those people.

he just nods, knowing there was no point in arguing, “a’ight. a’ight.” his voice is a shaky, but it doesn’t let up just how affected he was by your words, and he pulls your head back to his chest, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

[coryndoll]

chrysanthemums

drew starkey x reader zombie apocalypse au

— “you’re the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out.”

content: zombie apocalypse, death, violence, guns, lowkey actor!drew x camp counselor!reader in an apocalypse, drew saving reader & reader being stubborn asfuck i fear

authors note: me after rewatching twd asf LMAO im on s6. if u wanna be added to the tag list for this upcoming series, feel free to lmk thru replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !!

drew steps into the house, its rotting frame creaking under his weight. the walls sag like old men, peeling wallpaper revealing layers of neglect beneath, as if countless lives have been lived and lost within these confines.

he shuts the door behind him, careful not to lock it; the last thing he needs is to be trapped in here if things go south.

his heart pounds in his chest as he takes another step forward, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the room, wide and alert. he grips his baseball bat tightly, knuckles turning white against the wood.

the floorboards groan underfoot, each creak sounding like a warning, and he winces at the noise. if there’s a stiff inside this house, it’ll hear him for sure. every instinct screams at him to turn back, but he forces himself to move deeper inside, driven by a desperate hope that maybe—just maybe—he’ll find something useful.

he drops the bat to one hand, using the other to push open the door to the nearest room. the stench hits him like a wall, forcing him to pull his mask up over his nose, just below his eyes, and he glances around.

he rummages through the debris, sifting through old clothes and broken furniture. there’s nothing here but memories, and he wipes his hands on his pants in frustration.

he turns to leave, swinging the door back open, but he’s met with the cold steel of a gun pressed to the side of his cheek.

“don’t . . move,” a voice commands, low and steady. he freezes, heart racing, eyes darting to the figure standing before him. and you’re the one there, gun raised. it isn’t anything fancy, just a glock 19 you scavenged from a body at an overrun gas station weeks ago.

your finger rests near the trigger, tense and ready.

you size him up, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. drew can feel the heat radiating off your body, but once you see that he’s just some random guy, you lower the gun, stepping back slightly. “jesus christ,” you mutter.

he watches you, the gun hangs loosely at your side now, but he can see the edge of caution still lingering in your posture. your eyes are wary, scanning him for signs of threat, and he takes a slow step back, raising his hands slightly in a gesture of peace.

he can see the shadows under your eyes, the blood on your skin and clothes.

“i thought you were one of ‘em,” you say as you regain your composure. you reach down and grab the bag of cans you’d found just moments ago. the metal clinks softly as you pull it off the floor.

you don’t want to linger any longer. the silence stretches, and you know you need to keep moving, find your next shelter, your next meal. you turn sharply on your heel, ready to head out the door, but the moment you step toward the kitchen, you hear him behind you.

“hey— no, wait!” drew’s voice cuts through the silence, and he steps forward, but you quickly glance back over your shoulder, every instinct telling you to keep your distance. “one’f who?”

he quickly pulled his mask down from his face, revealing his expression—breathless and earnest, like he’s just realized how much he needs you in this hellish world.

“nobody,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. your eyes narrow at him. he places his bat on the ground beneath him, then raises his bare hands slightly as if to show you he means no harm, that he’s unarmed, but you can’t shake the feeling that this could all turn sideways in an instant.

“look,” he says, his voice casual yet urgent, “we should— we should stick together. it’s safer that way, right?”

you don’t falter, “not happening.” you start moving again, but he quickly intercepts you, stepping toward your path.

“c’mon,” he presses, “you can’t be out here alone. it's a death sentence. we have a better chance if we watch each other’s backs. there are worse things out there than me.” his eyes scan the room, then dart back to you, a flicker of desperation beneath the charm.

you squint at him, trying to gauge if he’s being genuine or if it’s some trick to win your trust. “and how do i know you’re not one of those worse things?” you retort, standing back on one of your legs. your mind races with the memories of the past year—trust has gotten you burned more times than you can count.

“because . . . i’m not a monster,” he replies, dropping the friendly act. “i’m just tryin’ to survive. there’s safety in numbers.” he pauses, seemingly aware of your silence. “i’m drew, by the way,” he adds, but you don’t respond with your name, keeping that information to yourself as a protective measure.

you look him over, “i don’t need a partner,” you insist, the words feeling more like a defense than a conviction.

“maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softening, and he follows you into the small kitchen, “but you don’t have to do this alone. just . . . think about it. we could cover more ground, find better supplies.”

you shake your head. “i’ve done fine on my own,” you argue. drew’s gaze is steady, not giving up on you, and it annoys you more than it should. you take a step back, glancing toward the door.

“look, we could—”

“no,” you cut him off sharply, your patience thinning. “you don’t know me, and i don’t need deadweight slowing me down.”

he opens his mouth, likely to say something else, but you turn abruptly, stepping outside into the dim light of the fading day. as you walk toward your car, a small hatchback parked in the driveway, you can feel his presence behind you, like a shadow you can’t shake off.

“where are you going?” he calls, his voice trailing after you.

“my car,” you reply curtly, not bothering to look back. your mind races with the possibility of getting out of here, of leaving him behind. but then a small voice in the back of your head—one that you’ve trained yourself to ignore—reminds you that you can’t keep running forever. maybe it would be easier to team up, to have someone who knows how to navigate this decaying city.

“do you even have gas?” he asks, quickening his pace to catch up with you, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. “we should check—”

“i know my car,” you snap, opening the door and peering inside. a few old cans roll around on the floor, remnants of a past scavenging trip. it’s not much, but it’s yours. “i can handle myself.”

“i believe you,” he says. “but gas is running low everywhere. i could help with that, you know. if you let me.” he leans against the car, his baseball bat resting against his thigh. you can’t help but glance at it, reading his mannerisms.

no.

you slip into your car. your heart races as you grip the steering wheel, torn between the urge to drive away and the nagging feeling that you’re leaving someone behind. glancing in the rearview mirror, you catch a glimpse of drew as he watches you leave.

there’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but you shake it off, convincing yourself that he’ll manage. he’s resourceful, right? he’ll find a way to survive, just like he’s been this whole time anyway.

the engine hums to life, and you pull away, the tires crunching against the gravel. the sun dips lower in the sky, and you remind yourself that you can’t afford to be weak—not now, not in this world.

as you drive, the evening air grows cooler. it’s getting dark. then, ahead, you spot movement. a dog is darting between a cluster of empties and a man, barking wildly. your instincts kick in, and you slow down, eyes narrowing as you assess the situation.

the man chasing the dog doesn’t look like its owner. there’s a wildness in his eyes, a desperate edge to his movements, and the knife glinting in his hand sends a chill down your spine. this isn’t a rescue mission; it’s a hunt.

you stop the car just in time, your heart pounding in your ears as the empties turn their heads, slow and shambling, drawn to the sound of your engine. you curse under your breath, the instinct to protect the dog outweighing your better judgment. you can’t let them hurt it, and you can’t let the dog end up being that man’s dinner.

grabbing the machete from the passenger seat, you open the door and step out into the fading light. the dog continues to bark, but you move swiftly, cutting through the first two like butter, the blade slicing into their skulls. blood and decay spray against your skin, but you push the discomfort aside.

the dog’s barking intensifies, and you leap into action, striking down another empty. you feel the rush of your heart as you move, each swing of the machete is quick and precise, but the smell of rot fills the air, overpowering and sickening, making it hard to concentrate.

but you can’t stop now. you push forward, cutting through the ranks of the undead, clearing a path toward the man and the dog. you’re almost there when he notices you, eyes narrowing in irritation. he shifts his weight, ready for a fight.

he lunges toward you, and you barely dodge his first strike, the blade missing you by inches. you sidestep, retaliating with a swing of your machete. he blocks you, and you can feel your heart racing as you circle him, trying to find an opening.

he charges again, and you duck as his knife whips past your ear. you retaliate with a slash of the machete, catching him across the arm. he hisses in pain, dropping his knife, but he doesn’t back down, lunging forward with renewed fury.

you back away, but the ground shifts beneath you. you stumble, catching yourself just before you lose your balance, but he’s on you, driving you back toward the treeline. you slam your foot down, pushing against him, but he pushes harder, and you feel yourself going down.

you grapple, fists flying as you wrestle for control of your machete. his grip tightens around your wrist, and for a moment, panic surges within you. you can’t let him win—not now, not like this. with a sudden burst of strength, you twist your body, throwing your weight against him, and finally, finally, you manage to free your machete.

without hesitation, you drive it into his neck, feeling the sickening squelch of flesh giving way. he gasps, surprise flooding his features as you twist the blade, but before you can pull the weapon free, he collapses, taking you with him as you tumble down a hidden slope you hadn’t noticed, “shit!”

the world spins around you as you roll, slamming against the ground hard enough to rattle your bones. pain erupts in your head as you hit a rock. the last thing you see before darkness creeps in is the dog barking at the top of the hill, confused and agitated.

then everything fades away into silence.

you wake slowly, vision blurring as you try to make sense of the world around you. a dull ache pulses through your skull, and your body feels heavy, weak. blinking, you try to take in your surroundings.

a small fire crackles in front of you, the orange flames licking at the night air. it’s dark, and the sky above is blanketed in stars. confusion prickles at your mind—where are you?

you shift, but your head throbs with a vengeance, and your muscles feel like lead. beneath you, something hard gives slightly under the pressure: a backpack wrapped in a jacket to act like a pillow, just something to lay on. you hadn’t even registered it was there until now. as you move, the material rustles, and a small twitch of pain shoots through your neck.

god, your head hurts.

blinking again, you force your vision to focus. in your peripherals, you spot the dog from before. it’s lying nearby, tail flicking with calm awareness. oh—right. the dog. you were protecting it before everything went sideways, before that asshole with the knife and the tumble down the hill.

the hill.

the guy died.

he’s an empty.

panic grips you, and you spring up, or at least try to like the empty will attack you at any moment—your limbs are weak. your hands automatically search for your machete. first, your boot. nothing. then, the sheath that’s supposed to be strapped to your calf. but it isn’t there either.

panic claws at your chest, making it hard to breathe. your leg is wrapped in a makeshift bandage, clean but light, and you can’t feel a thing from it. what the hell happened?

your breath quickens, a desperate, uneven rhythm as you struggle to find your weapon around you, your fingers scrabbling at dirt and a few wood chips. where is it?

that’s when you hear him. “relax,” the voice says, dry. “you’re not exactly in fighting shape, anyway.”

your eyes snap to drew. he’s sitting a couple feet away, leaning against the base of a tree. there’s a bar clamped between his teeth, and he’s tearing off a piece with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. he chews, watching you with that same exasperated look he wore back when you left him on the road.

the day hasn’t been kind to him, either; his face is lined with fatigue, and his clothes are more scuffed and dirty than before. the granola bar he’s eating must’ve come from some recent scavenging effort, something you don’t remember finding yourself. at least he hasn’t gone through your supplies—or maybe he has. you wouldn’t know.

you glance around the makeshift camp. your hatchback sits a tree or two away, its dirty, beat-up exterior looking just as you’d left it. a tiny sense of relief washes over you, though you’re still on edge.

the dog from earlier trots up to you, sniffing your leg before nuzzling your head. you watch it, feeling a rare warmth unfurl in your chest. it’s safe. you’d saved it. no more running, at least for now.

drew’s still sitting there, silent as he chews, gaze unfocused and distant, watching the dark woods. he hardly notices you looking at him until he turns slightly, catches your eye, and acts. biting down on the bar to hold it in place, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another granola bar.

without a word, he tosses it over. it lands in front of you, and you stare at it, your lips pressing into a thin line. drew mutters something under his breath. “not much, but it’s what i could find this morning. for both of us.”

you don’t move. you’re too stubborn to accept his food or the silent offer of care. your hand flexes against the dirt, trying to push yourself to your feet. drew sees you trying to stand and quickly drops his bar, scrambling into a crouch. he moves forward with practiced precision, catching your wrists just as you’re about to collapse again. he holds your arms gently but firmly, pinning you back against the makeshift pillow.

“fuck—!” you yelp, frustration breaking free. rage sparks in your eyes, and you glare up at him, teeth clenched, breath coming in shallow gasps. drew is hunched over you, worry creasing his forehead, his gaze scanning your face and hair for any signs of new injuries or, god forbid, crawling insects.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” you spit out.

“what’s wrong with me?” he echoes, voice even but laced with exhaustion. “what the hell is wrong with you? you nearly killed yourself trying to play hero. maybe let someone help you for once.”

he lingers there, doesn’t pull back, still making sure you’re not about to hurt yourself—or him.

you grow quiet again, the fight draining from your body as drew watches you closely, his shoulders tense, but when it becomes clear you aren’t about to launch another desperate attempt to stand, he releases his grip on your arms and leans back. he picks up the granola bar you rejected, his movements resigned.

you sit up, slower this time, shooting him a glare as your hand moves cautiously to your leg. your fingertips brush the bandage. it’s secure but not overly tight. you feel the slightest prickle of guilt mixed with irritation as you look back at him.

drew meets your gaze, his jaw set. “when you fell,” he begins, voice low as he swallows, looking down at his granola bar, “you scraped your leg. nothin’ that’s gonna kill you, but it was bad enough to need wrapping. infection out here is just a different way to die. we can’t afford that.”

you catch the way he says ‘we,’ and your brow furrows. “we?” you echo, your voice colder than you mean it to be.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “yeah, we. as in, both of us. like it or not, we’re out here together now. you got hurt trying to save that dog, and—hell, i know you think you don’t need anyone, but . . .” he pauses, choosing his words carefully. “i couldn’t just leave you there. especially when that stiff was gonna come back to life while you were out.”

your eyes narrow, “i didn’t ask for you to find me. or to save me,” you snap, bitterness lacing your voice. the implication hangs in the air: you’d rather be on your own, even injured and vulnerable, than owe anything to him.

drew’s mouth twists. “yeah, well, maybe you didn’t. but i found you anyway, and that’s where we’re at. it’s not just about what either of us wants anymore; it’s about surviving. and as much as it annoys you, we have a better shot together than apart.”

you grit your teeth and your mind fights the idea, refusing to accept that this stranger—this person who insists on sticking around—might be right.

he studies you for a long moment, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “you gonna tell me your name?” he asks, breaking the silence, his voice softer than before. for him, it’s been a full day since he first introduced himself, and yet he’s still left in the dark about who you are.

you clench your jaw, your lips pressing into a thin line as you consider staying quiet again.

his gaze is steady. “you think i’m a liability?” he asks you.

“i know you are,” you reply, tilting your head. “and if you keep bothering me, i might just throw you to the empties myself.” it comes out half-jokingly, but it’s a warning that carries weight—an unspoken understanding that you will do what it takes to protect yourself.

“empties—yikes. and that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” he replies, a lopsided smile breaking through his frustration.

“harsh is surviving another day in here,” you say. “i can handle myself, thank you very much. if you can’t keep up, then you’ll find yourself with the rest of them.” you nod around you, not an actual direction, indicating the danger that lurks just beyond the trees you can see from there.

he shifts his weight, contemplating your words. “i’m not asking you to babysit me. i can keep up,” he insists. “i just think we could help each other. you might be able to throw me to the stiffs, but what happens when there’s more than just one? or when you run out of supplies?”

“i’ll take my chances,” you respond. “i’ve gotten this far on my own. it’s worked for me.”

he sighs, clearly exasperated but not willing to give up. “you’re stubborn,” he states, but he can’t help but admit that he admires it about you. “but that won’t get you everywhere. sometimes you need to lean on someone else.”

you shake your head. “i said no. if you keep pushing, i swear—”

“you’ll throw me to the stiffs, yeah, i get it,” he interrupts, a wry smile playing on his lips. “but let me just say, it’s a hell of a lot easier when you’re not facing down a horde alone.”

you hesitate, contemplating his words. trust doesn’t come easy, not when you’ve seen what people are capable of when pushed to their limits, even though you can go for a companion out here.

“you don’t even know where to look for supplies,” you say, trying to sound tougher than you feel. you can almost hear your heart thudding in your chest, “i’ve been doing this for months. i can find what i need.”

“you act like you’re the only person in this universe who’s been practically living in a cemetery this last year! it’s getting harder out here,” he replies, his eyes serious now. “you’ll wish you had someone watching your back. you probably already have.”

you push your hands into your pockets, feeling the rough edges of the cans you collected earlier. the truth is, the thought of partnering up is enticing, but the fear of betrayal hangs heavy in the air.

you let out a reluctant breath, muttering, “y/n.”

he doesn’t miss the way you almost bite down on the name, as if even giving that small piece of yourself away is a battle. but drew’s expression softens, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. it’s not a grin of triumph but rather a look of someone who knows that even the smallest steps matter.

“y/n,” he repeats, testing the sound, as if committing it to memory. “nice to meet you, officially.”

he shifts slightly, his eyes searching yours. “look, just think about it. we’re stronger together. and if it helps, i promise i won’t let you down.”

you hesitate, glancing back at him. there’s a flicker of something—a potential alliance, perhaps—but the instinct to protect yourself runs deeper than any desire for companionship. finally, you turn your back on him, determined to get to your car.

“fine,” you say, voice steady but laced with reluctance. “but if you try anything—”

“you’ll be the first to know,” he cuts in quickly, a ghost of a smile appearing as the tension between you both shifts, just a fraction, toward something resembling partnership.

early tags: @iissza @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @yootvi @skyslowalking @hoelesslyt @ariiwritess @beebeerockknot @0-tatiana-0

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

please write lirerally anything for sitting on daryls lap facing him omg i would die

fem wife!plus size reader, wc: 515.

a/n: i decided to combine my idea of daryl messing up cutting his hair and this and it honestly turned out so cute!! like i was giggling and twirling my hair writing this 😭

With your lips rolled between your teeth to hide a cheek splitting smile, you perched yourself comfortably onto Daryl’s lap, hair cutting scissors in hand as you assessed the damage he had done to himself.

Admittedly, you had put cutting Daryl’s hair on the back burner seeing as though your group was working to make Commonwealth your home once more. You knew its length was starting to bug your husband, catching the older man often tucking it behind his ears, blowing it out of his face, or into a man-bun; you shamelessly enjoyed those days the most.

You knew he was much too good of man to bug you about it when you’d walk through the threshold of your home looking like you were about to pass out as soon as your body touched the softness of your bed. You just hadn’t expected him to take matters into his own hands. Maybe you should have.

“God, D. What did you do?” You said with a snort, taking pieces of his now mix-matched length hair in between the pads of your fingers. You twirled them gently, a fond look in your eye. Daryl’s eyes were cast down in embarrassment due to your teasing.

“Dunno… thought I could do it m’self.” He mumbled stubbornly. You laughed again, finally allowing your smile to break free. “I’m sure you did hun.”

He just grunted in response.

“Welp,” You began with a sigh. “Let’s get to work.”

With every chunk of his hair that fell to the floor also took a part of your soul with it. Daryl and you had been together for what seemed like forever now, especially with everything that you had gone through together all the way from the farm until now.

You have seen him throughout many stages of growth, so cutting off a piece of him that you watched change feels like you’re losing a part of the past, but also welcoming a new future.

You felt yourself smile once more the shorter his hair got until you had gotten it perfectly styled.

“Oh God.” You couldn’t help but exclaim with a scrunched nose. “Wha’?” He asked nervously. He had felt his head get lighter, and everytime it did he felt himself get a tad bit sicker. “This is gonna make me feel young again.” Was all you could say.

By that you mean he looks exactly like he did back when you had first met at the Quarry; when he was young and spunky and mean.

“Stop teasin’ me, woman.” He groaned with a small smile of his own. “I’m being serious, stud.” You flirted. He snorted, saying, “I wanna see what it looks like.”

You got off of him, stretching as he padded over to the closest mirror.

He was quiet for a moment and you made sure to watch his face for any kind of negative reaction, but all he did was just pull at his new hairdo with curious hands.

“Do you like it?” You couldn’t help but ask. It took him a moment to respond.

“Yeah, I like it.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[star-wrote]

18+

daryl dixon loves to watch you ride his thigh.

he sits back and smokes a cigarette while his eyes wander over your body. your body that’s grinding desperately on his thigh.

listening to you begging and whining for him to touch you might just be his favorite sound, so he tells you that you’ll have to do all of the work until he finishes his cigarette.

once he uses the cigarette for all it’s worth, he stubs it out and move his hands to your hips. the sigh you let out is immediate.

when he starts moving your hips for you, it takes so much not to just cum on his thigh right then.

soon enough, he grows uncomfortably hard in his pants and gives you permission to cum.

the night ends with your face pressed into pillows and him pounding into you <3

next blurb ->

[daddydixonscrossbow]

*you walk up to Daryl who’s working on his bike*

Y/n - “Hey. Thought you might like some company.”

Daryl - *looks up at you* “Yeah, why’s that?”

Y/n - *you shrug* “Just thought you’d like something pretty to look at when you get sick a’lookin’ at that bike.”

*Daryl scoffs and shakes his head*

Y/n - “Alright. Have it your way.” *you go to walk away*

Daryl - *Stands up and motions to the steps* “Sit your ass down.”

——

Here’s a kiss for likin’ and rebloggin’💋

[itsgrimeytime]

when you get hurt... || Rick Grimes (TWD)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

"Rick," you stressed, "-it's just a cut. I'll be fine."

You'd been messing around with your knife and had sliced your finger. That was it. It was bleeding, yeah, but nothing worse than what you'd already experienced. So, you were here, hand pressed into your finger searching for some medical supplies and you had made the mistake of going to one Rick Grimes.

He'd been really concerned for you lately, to his defense, so it wasn't really out of the ordinary.

Whether be making sure you took care of yourself, "Ya eaten yet?"

Or dragging you away from something when you were bone-dead tired, "C'mon, 's time to at least take a break."

Or making sure you were careful on runs, he'd taken to telling you to "Please, be careful." with quite possibly the most genuine tone you'd ever heard. You weren't sure how to respond to that.

And then, he was always seeking you out. Roaming around Deanna's dinners with you, he focused on chatting with you. If he got pulled off to someone else, he'd be back by your side at the end of the night. Or he'd ask if you wanted some lunch, and you'd stay in the Grimes house for a few hours, just talking. Not that you minded it at all, you were close with Rick and, if you were honest, you did kind of have a thing for him. Well, bigger than a thing.

"Indulge me 'is one time, darlin'," he nearly begged -concern heavy in his blue eyes, "-Let me help ya."

Right, the "darlin'" thing. That had started recently, and you still weren't sure how to take it.

You sighed, the chill of the night dusting along your skin, "Yeah, alright, Grimes. But it is really not a big deal-"

He gently took your bicep in one hand, fingertips carefully pushed into your skin. Your lips snapped shut.

Physical contact? Add it to the list.

Recognizing the path to be the one to his own house, you weren't surprised. Everyone had a med kit in their house, you had just run out when you helped somebody with a bigger injury than yours currently was.

He didn't stop until he was in the bathroom, a tiny bathroom really, crouching down and fishing out the med kit. You stared at him for a few seconds, blankly, distinctly standing outside of the bathroom because... well, because standing so close to Rick just might make your heart burst out of your chest.

And it wasn't even that the bathroom was that tiny. It was just Rick was all broad-shoulder, leader-stance man that there would not be much space left at all. You shoved the thought of his shoulders far, far away. Or you tried to.

Finally, he stood up, little white container in his hand. His hands-

"C'mon," he motioned for you to come into the bathroom, tiny bathroom, broad shoulders, big hands-

"Rick," you spoke instead of following him in, "-is this really worth the medical supplies?"

"Yeah," he answered back, instinctively (getting a little of his leader voice), "-now, c'mon."

Gnawing at your lip a second, you sighed and moved into the bathroom. Just as you thought, it was small. And you could smell the woodsy smell of one Rick Grimes, as his body heat seeped into your skin. You almost forgot you were bleeding for a second.

"Rick, we can barely fit in here together. How are you supposed t-"

Rick put his hands under your arms and lifted you onto the sink counter with practiced ease. You swallowed, heavily.

"'Ere," he chimed, a little frustrated (worried, really), "-ya happy?"

You didn't say a word.

Luckily, he didn't expect you to. Instead, he brushed his calloused fingers against yours, pulling back your hand to see the cut. Rick pursed his lips, hands gentle and careful with you like you were precious. The thought made something thrum in your chest.

"'S hurt?" he asked, blue eyes focused on your wound.

You ignored the urge to really look at him and followed his eyes. You gave up fighting, answering honestly, "A little. Stings, mostly."

He frowned a little at that, gently pressing his fingers along your skin, "Gonna 'ave to clean it, and, by the look of it, 's gonna need stitches, darlin'."

"Rick," you countered, "-it does not need stitches."

"Does," he replied simply, adding, "-'Seen my fair share of wounds, sweetheart, an' it needs stitches."

Sweetheart, that's new.

"What," you responded, indignant, "-and I haven't?"

Rick looked up at you then, and your breath halted in your chest (blue, blue, blue), "Ya kno' you are terrible at takin' care of yourself."

"Just because I don't eat once-"

"'S not it," he hummed, busying himself back with the wound -he was gathering up some cotton balls, "-I see ya hide wounds all the time. Bad ones."

Okay, so maybe you lied. You cleaned out your medical kit out of your own volition. It wasn't that you were bad with weapons, you were just clumsy. You couldn't control that, and it was embarrassing, so you hid it.

"Nobody else has caught onto that," you questioned, "-how did you?"

He took a moment, not looking at you (eyes solely on the wound), "I pay attention to ya."

You pressed your lips together, silencing yourself. You were learning a lot today. Good things, maybe?

You eyes dipped to Rick a moment.

Yeah, okay, good things.

"If it needs stitches, shouldn't I go to Denise?" you asked, carefully.

He looked up at you, all blue eyes and worry, "Ya want to?"

"No," you cleared your throat, awkwardly (he was very close), "-no, this is fine."

Rick looked at you a little confused for a second, maybe at your sudden awkwardness, but he seemed to write it off. You breathed out a sigh of relief.

It was silent as he cleaned your wound, other than the hiss of your breath as it stung. Rick's eyes dipped to you then, lips flattening, and the next time he tried to do it gently. You don't know if you were supposed to notice it, but you did.

As he was finishing up the stitches, your mouth started moving before you could stop it.

"Why do you care so much?"

He didn't react at first, focused on stitching your wound up -calloused fingers careful and practiced. You briefly wondered how often he'd done this to be so casual about it. You supposed you couldn't judge, you did it a lot too.

Finally, he finished, turning his eyes up to you -something serious in them, "We doin' 'is now?"

You swallowed at the eye contact, but spoke, confused, "I just asked you a question. I don't-"

"Y/N," he leveled, voice stern and focused -just looking at you.

"What? I'm confused-"

His fingers tilted your eyes to him, callouses against your skin, and your lips snapped shut. Blue eyes intently focused, and something in your stomach swirled.

"We doin' 'is now?" he repeated, and his eyes dipped to your lips for just a second. Oh.

You blinked a few times, "I guess-" you swallowed, "-I guess not."

Rick nodded, gathering up the leftover supplies and putting them back in the container -fluidly. You just watched him wordlessly, words anywhere but on your tongue.

"Next time, ya hurt yourself," he stated, not really a question at all, "-come to me."

"Rick, I really can't ask you to-"

He turned to you again, eyes heavily focused, "Ya ain't a burden to me, and I'd prefer to kno' if ya were hurt."

You pressed your lips together a second, taking in all this new information -scanning him over, "Okay, yeah, I'll come to you."

Rick let his eyes rest on your face, skimming over you, before pulling you off the counter. His hands left your skin tingling, and you blearily blinked.

"We'll talk tomorrow mornin', yeah?"

You nearly asked him about what, but the way he was looking at you nearly knocked the breath out of your lungs. Oh.

"Yeah," you shook your head, slowly, "-yeah, we can talk tomorrow."

He smiled at you then, a small one (it felt different now), "Goodnight, darlin'."

You bit at your lip, just looking at him (he almost looked at you like he thought you were adorable), "Yeah, um, goodnight, Rick."

And with a blink, you turned and walked out of his house.

Tomorrow, you thought (maybe smiling a little), tomorrow. Maybe you could get up early. For no particular reason.

Well, at least you had something to look forward to.

[enid-rhees]

Hii, could you mabye write one with Michonne where she found you in some abonded store? Where you're kind of hiding yourself with the corpses? If not thwt's fine :)

you’re okay || michonne x fem!reader

warnings: angst if u squint

a/n: thank you so much for your request, anon! i hope you, and everyone else enjoys :D !! 🫶🏻

“Michonne, you go look through that store, i’ll take this one.” Rick instructed, pointing over to the store across the street. he then pointed to the one he’d be going into.

she nodded and reached behind her to take her katana off of her back, and held it in front of her as she started to make her way towards the store. there was one walker stumbling across the lot. when it noticed her and started to slowly walk over to her, Michonne effortlessly used her katana to slice his head off.

when he fell to the ground, she realized there were practically piles of dead walkers surrounding her. someone else was here. with that new knowledge, she was more careful when she walked into the store, keeping her katana at the ready.

the store was quiet, the only sounds you could hear were the buzzing flies that swarmed walkers and Michonne’s soft breathing. she began to walk around the store, taking anything that might be useful for Hilltop or Alexandria.

the walkie in her pocket began to release static sounds, and then Rick’s voice came through. “have you found anything?” Michonne reached for it and held it up to her lips, “a few scraps of food. still looking. you?”

“nothing yet. i’ll let you-“ Michonne suddenly heard shuffling somewhere near her, and she took her attention away from Rick. she debated on telling him what she heard, but instead chose to deal with it on her own. “okay. just let me know.” she said into the walkie, putting it back in her pocket.

she rose her katana in her hands and began to walk towards the room where she heard the noise. when she finally walked all the way into the room, a girl sat in the corner of it. she was covered in blood, and surrounded by more piles of walkers. she put her hands up the sight of the katana. her hands were shaking.

“please- don’t hurt me!” she cried out. “i-i promise i was just hiding. please… don’t hurt me.” Michonne looked at her with furrowed eyebrows for a few seconds, and then put the katana down. she then slowly kneeled down on the ground. Michonne reached out her hand, “you’re okay. i won’t hurt you… i promise.” the girl was hesitant in taking her hand, but she did anyways and allowed Michonne to pull her away from the walkers.

now that she was standing, Michonne could see that she covered in blood entirely, from her face down to her legs. the girl couldn’t have been any older than Michonne. “did you take out all of those? even the ones outside?” Michonne asked her, and she nodded. “yeah… but then there was too many to handle and i ran in here and tried to hide, but there was even more. so then i killed them too and hid behind them so they wouldn’t smell me.”

the girl kept shifting her eyes on Michonne and then to the ground. but Michonne couldn’t stop looking at her. “what’s your name?”

“Y/N.” she told her, and Michonne nodded. “Michonne. are you alone?” Y/N nodded, “always have been out here. are you?”

“no, my partner is out looking in the store across the street. but don’t worry, okay? i’m sure he’ll let me take you back our home.” Michonne was not the type to let a stranger come back with her like this, but Y/N… she was different. and she needed help. well, Michonne wanted to help.

“home? you have a home?” Y/N was almost in disbelief. “we do. and i can get you cleaned up, only if you want. you don’t have to come back with us.” Y/N stared at the ground as she contemplated. “how- how can i trust you?” she then asked.

“i know that i can’t prove it right now, but if you come with us, you’ll see. we have many others living with us.” Michonne told her. Y/N thought again, and then nodded after a few seconds. “okay… i’ll go with you.”

Michonne pulled out her walkie. “hey, Rick. i found something. you may want to come here.”

after another long intervention with Rick, Y/N was finally at Hilltop with him and Michonne. she had never seen a place like this before. she got out of the car and Michonne was already by her side. “i’ll get you inside and help you clean up, and i’ll give you some clothes as well.”

Michonne led her inside the huge building and took her upstairs, and into another room. she instructed Y/N to sit on the bed as she grabbed the supplies she needed. “this place is huge. and really nice.” Y/N told her. “it is. hopefully you’ll stay with us. you’ll be safe here.”

Y/N let out a laugh and Michonne couldn’t lie that it was such a pretty sound. “i think i’ll definitely stay here.”

Michonne took a wipe and began to gently wipe it across Y/N’s skin. “i could also do this myself, you know.” Y/N smiled, biting her lip as well. it took strength for Michonne to stop looking down at her lips. “i know,” she hummed, continuing to wipe off the blood.

once she was done, she walked over to her closet and started to dig through the clothes she had. she pulled out a shirt and jeans, and walked back over to Y/N. “here’s some clean clothes, i’ll be back after you’re done changing.” Y/N took the clothes and Michonne walked out as she began to change out of her bloody ones and into the clean ones.

Michonne walked back in a few minutes later and she took the clothes in her hands. “i can have someone wash these and they’ll be clean by tomorrow.” Y/N smiled and nodded, “wow. um… thank you, Michonne. seriously.”

“it’s no problem, really. you’re better here than out there.”

she noticed Y/N hesitate in her movements. Y/N began to lean forward, but pushed herself back. then after a few more seconds, she leaned forward again and pressed her lips to Michonne’s cheek.

Michonne’s face burned, and then Y/N pulled away. both of them couldn’t help but smile at the other and nervously look down at the ground.

[darylsfavoritegirl]

Yk that argument Daryl had with Shane at the barn? Put your own spin on it and include the reader somehow, maybe she even tries to break them up and he is still pissed. Afterwards he goes off to sulk in his anger trying to ignore you, but it’s too hard

۶•ৎ

The Odd Man Out

There you all were, away from Hershel's house, near the barn. Your heart was pumping blood more than what felt like necessary, your knees had become weak, all ready to betray you and cause you to collapse to the ground.

"This is unacceptable, man." Shane breathed out with fire, drawing circles infront of the barn gate.

"All this time..." He didn't finish his sentence and chuckled exasperatedly.

"Shane. Calm down. This is Hershel's land."

"I'll- I'll find a way to figure this-"

Shane came at Rick when Lori got between the two of them, pressing her right hand to Shane's chest. Her eyes scolded him as Shane gave her a quick stare and rolled his eyes.

Shane was staring at the barn gate, hands rested on his hips, shaking his head as all you could hear was him mumbling to himself.

Your eyes scanned the barn and its perimeter, observing every distressed face.

"You know we gotta leave man. Now we been talking about Fort Benning for a while..." Shane turned to all of you as Rick didn't let him say a word and raised his hand as a warning.

"We can't leave." He shook his head.

The side of your eyes caught Carol and how he wrapped her arms around herself, bottom lip trembling, eyes glossy with tears to come.

"My daughter is out there." Her voice was shaky. She looked taken aback as everyone gazed upon her. You could tell she didn't like to be the center of attention, especially at a time like this.

"We're gonna find your daughter, OK?" Lori rushed to Carol, offering a sense of support as she squeezed her arm, they were glued to one another.

Your eyes shifted to Shane as you shielded your eyes from the sun. He studied your face for a second or so. A faint snicker painted his lips. He knew why you had stayed quiet so far, he was the one that you spoke in discreet -though you felt that the cat was gonna be out of the bag any second-

You felt uneasy under his gloomy gaze as you looked away, changing your position in which you rested your entire body weight on one leg, arms crossed. You eyes were fixated on the others for a brief second to see if anyone caught that tense eye contact you happened to make with the most troubled man in the group.

Shane walked past you, not skipping to give you one last dark stare as he made his way to Rick.

"I think it's the time that we all start to just consider the other possibility."

You sensed everyone tilting their heads to his direction. Daryl stood next to you, you almost heard his breathing go more and more shallow, irritation growing denser through his veins as he fixated his eyes on him; squiented as ever, dauntless as ever.

"I ain't leavin' no one behind." He squiented his eyes at him, his body still as a stone as you could see he clenched his jaw firmly.

Shane ran his hand through his shaved head as he clasped his hands over it.

"Nah man, I-" Shane were to start another babbling session on a bothersome argument right when you flinched at Daryl's loud words.

"I'm close ta findin' dis girl. I jus' found a damn doll two days ago" He was coming at Shane when you felt like it was time you partook in this before it got out of hand.

"You found a doll, Daryl. That's what you did, you found a doll."

Shane pressed his lips together as he leered at Carol before speaking.

"All I'm sayin' is she could've been dead by now and we're-"

"Enough. Shane, enough." You looked at him in disbelief, eyes wide with your hand reflexively being up in the air towards his direction as a sense of warning before he took this any further.

"Ya dun' know the hell yer talkin' 'bout."

It was Shane one side and Daryl on the other side. Things got ugly pretty swiftly as you had to step back when Daryl came at him but it wasn't a few seconds later that you stepped in once again, punches flying in the air, some hitting your chin with their elbows. Your head and body were thrown back by their aggression reflected on their action.

Dust particles, the strings of hays that were laid out on the perimeter were awakened by this fallout. Your eyes got stung by them, this was like hell that you had no control in whatsoever.

"Hey, you back off."

"Come on now." Dale asserted.

It was Rick, Lori and you trying to break them up. Under the heat of the sun, with your red faces and greased clothes were you tossed in a fight near a barn full of walkers.

"Leave. Leave now." You demanded Shane. You pointed him with your finger, forehead wrinkled and brows creased as he clapped his hands in an amusing manner.

"You got a real mouth on you, I'll give you that." He cackled and continued with his chest heaving.

"Now you care? 'Cause last time I checked you were the one who said 'it's a waste of time anyway' " He waved his hands next to his head theatrically and thinned his voice as if to mock you.

"That's not what I said prick." You stepped forward, walking slowly as you widened your eyes. You were trying to catch your breath, unevenly panting as your eyes were out of focus.

It was Daryl's voice that stopped you

" 'S this true?" He had his hands on his hips, gazing upon you through his lashes. It was like he was let down, couldn't even stomach looking you in the eyes, though his eyes had an uneasy beam to them, as if what you were about to say meant more than what both of you could ever dare to imagine.

"No" You shook your head, you clenched your fists without noticing. You felt goosebumps swarming all over your body, somehow making you chill under the radiant sun.

"Fuck no." Your head turned to Carol instinctly, and then the others.

It was a moment of suffering. You, standing toe to toe with everyone. Their hesitant stares, their subtle glances that traveled back and forth with everyone else but you had riled you up yet you knew you were in big trouble and perhaps in the wrong.

You spanked your forehead with both of your palms, inhaling a huge breath in as you shut your eyes and stared all of them back.

"Come on. That motherfucker's lyin' to your faces."

" 'S he?" Daryl inquired, though his tone gave away that he thought he knew the answer. You could never wrap your head around how a redneck like him, could be so tender to a woman he despised. Yet there comes to question, didn't he despise you all? What had happened that he was now a decent person, defending someone who wasn't his blood nor his kin like a sworn confidant behind closed door?

Your eyes darted to the others.

"You believe him?"

Them looking down at their shoes was your answer.

"Stupid bitch."

Daryl mumbled under his breath as he walked away with slumped shoulders and a crossbow he had put aside.

Your face went white, shoulders sagging as you did what you had thought of doing all along.

You kept breathing sharply, turning around and lunging at Shane. He took a step back, eyeing Rick specifically to come and get you as he already had done so.

"Lying son of a bitch." You spat, your hair was everywhere on your face. You could hear your heartbeat in your eardrums.

"Easy. Easy." Rick kept his hand above your cleavage, fingers gripping the sides of your arms.

"I'm fine." You fumed as you moved your hair aside from your face.

"Wha's with all tha' if he 's lyin?" Daryl commented while he was tapping his feet to the ground, resembling a jaded eleven-year old in a family gathering. He pointed at you with his hand as he emphasized on the word "that". You had gone mad infront of all of them. You were bewildered, brows raised with a blank stare in your eyes for a few seconds.

"Look, that's not what I said at all." You began. You pouted your face as soon as everyone started putting your words into your mouth and jabbering.

"Geez, am I the only one who gives a damn 'bout this lil' girl?" Daryl snapped, walking around in circles and spreading out his accusing tone to everyone.

You shook your head in apace, trying to select the proper words to utter. You pressed your lips together, face heating under the wrathing heat wave. You looked around like a child in need of emotional support. Hands on your hips as Rick took a step ahead.

"Everyone go. Now. We'll sort this out tonight."

You got a chance to gaze upon Daryl for the first as his eyes were fixated on Carol. After all, they had formed a relationship out of this. You barely remembered anyone getting along with Daryl or him with others. You walked towards the house with thought filling your head and the misconception you felt needed to be debunked.

Few days passed, everyone still being furious with you. Little Sophia coming out of the barn as a walker didn't aid to your situation whatsoever.

You were sitting on a rock near the fields on Hershel's property. One of your elbows were resting on your knee as your other hand was supporting your chin. You were observing the stubble land laid out infront of you, cicadas jumping from one to another.

The wobbly wind was aggravating with the way it was blowing hot air to your face and body when your eye caught someone walking out of the woods into the stubble field.

Your position changed gradually with you fixing your hunchback as your arms fell loose next to you and you stretched your body a few inches taller to see who it was.

Daryl.

His eyes were checking out his surroundings as his crossbow was swinging on his hand. He wiped his hand on his forehead when his eyes noticed you.

Uneasy features were tugged on your face, not knowing what to do or say.

He passed by you, putting his best work not to acknowledge your existence.

"Daryl." You softly said.

Though your hands were resting on the sharp-edged rock , head slightly tilted and eyes scrutinising your knees that had scrapes all over it, you somehow managed to sense him throwing his head back and fully preparing himself to say a word to you.

"Yeah." He reacted.

It took a while for you to turn and face him entirely. He was looking rather fed up with you. His lips were pale and pressed, his goatee beard all tangled, he must've been scratching it and running his fingers through it, you assumed. It was something you had noticed him doing back in the quarry.

"I'm sorry but all I said was 'we might be better off elsewhere' when I happened to be absent-minded around him. You know-"

He squinted his eyes at you, his chest heaving up with a heartburn as he barked.

"Ain't ma headache no more."

"The girl 's dead."

He pointed one of his stained arrow at you, a vein appearing on the side of his neck. He was blaming every inch of you from head to toe.

You stood infront of him, pupils dilated, hands in a loose punch as no amount of air was enough to fill your lungs.

"And I'm terribly sorry-"

"No yea ain't." He came closer at you, crossbow on one hand and arrow on the other. His neck was stretching forward, sweat beading the below of his hairline.

"Don' give me tha' crap." He used his arrow once again, pointing it at you in a circular motion.

"Yer upset only 'cause he outed yea like tha', infront of the whole lot."

"You hear yourself?" You gasped slightly at his words. You were more confused than angry.

"Whatever dis is, keep it ta yerself."

You heard the fading tone in his voice, he grew less and less attentive with you within 5 minutes.

He adjusted his crossbow and arrows on one hand and started ambling towards the house with his hand scratching the back of his neck.

Sun shone through his golden hair, he was walking aimlessly. It was like you had sucked away the energy left in him for the day.

"Your one stupid motherfucker." You hissed, standing on your tiptoes and extending your torso forward to make sure he heard you.

It was all a misunderstanding, Shane twisting your words back then and now no one giving you the time to explain yourself but only putting words into your mouth. You had lost all hope for the situation for the time being, after all it was still so fresh, everyone was still so vulnerable. No one could even dare trying to foresee anything.

"What'd ya say?" He turned his head towards your direction, his body adjusting to his head gradually.

"No one is listening to me but they're believing that troublesack for a man." You fumed in one breath, you avoided eye contact with him.

He blew raspberries without sticking out his tongue, his cynical body language took over your mentality.

"Yer a real peach with yer tears n' all." A half smile on his lips, completely not interested in what you had to say. He had biases about you all along, this was only the cherry on top.

"Do you really think I didn't care about Sophia the slighest?" You asked with an ajar mouth, eyes fixated on his body as in order not to miss anything you could interpret for your own good.

His neck stretched forward once again, the glazing sun was aiming right at him, perhaps this wasn't the best time.

"I ain't yer buddy, ain't yer nothin' " He growled, his hands were gripping his weapon as he wiped his sweat with his arm.

"I sure ain't the one yea should be makin' amends ta" He hushed, turning around.

"I'm not making amends!" You declared.

Which was true, you weren't. You just hoped for to be understood and not have everyone jump into conclusions about you.

You heard him murmur "Sure sounds like it." As he was making his way through the long stubble to the van.

That night, on a chilly weather were you above the van with Dale as you were assigned to assist him during his watch.

You sat on one of the camp stools, shotgun laying between your thighs vertically. Though Dale was sitting infront of you, your eyes were fixated behind him. The long roads, the long fields.

"Hey, old man. Rick wants yea back at the house."

You flinched at Daryl's voice becoming less and less muffled as he came near the van.

"Ohh what now." You heard Dale complain under his breath as he got up.

"Heads up." Daryl warned as he threw his crossbow on top of the van while he was yet climbing the ladder.

He didn't expect to see you there. His eyes flickered across your face for a moment or so as he looked around subtly, obviously looking for Glenn with whom you were replaced to assist Dale.

"The hell?" He inquired deadly with half-lidded eyes as he straddled on the chair infront of you.

"Just don't even talk if you aren't good with words." You huffed, not even seeing him fit to make eye contact with.

He remained silent as he rubbed his eyes. He hadn't been getting any sleep.

"Ain't no need fer words with yer bullshit." He scoffed, resting his head on his hands, looking around just like you.

"All this time spent together and you haven't figured out what kind of a person I could be. Not even the slighest, huh?" You sighed, not rushing, taking your time with each word.

Your heart was sinking down your torso, it felt like. Your eyes were droppy, fingers at the tip of the shotgun, seeking to be occupied by anything. Anything but him.

His eyes were glued on your eyes as you weren't bothering to meet with his gaze.

You pegged him for a complex man at all times, deep down you always knew he wasn't someone easy to come terms with. You were not gonna be seen by him, not in this, not in anything.

But at that exact moment, when two of you took a minute to enjoy the calmness, quietness around you, letting your minds talk to yourselves instead of words, you dared to hope for a change.

He could change after all, you saw it with your own eyes.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

A/N: well this request had been on my asks since the beginning of this year... so i hope you still enjoy this anon!! also dumb me accidentally replied to a different request🥲🥲 so if that anon got the notification, im sorry, feel free to request whatever you want bae!!!

also i think i never wrote for season 2 daryl before huh? i hope this was satisfying, he was some constant-nagging redneck in season 1-2 but we love him

[dixonzzgirl]

dog head canons (no one asked for these)

dog is extremely protective of you, like if daryl is pretending to sneak up on you, dog will show his teeth and growl (all while his tail is going).

or if daryl is tickling you and you’re squealing, dog thinks daryl is hurting you, so he’ll start barking really loud and trying to jump in between you.

he also gets jealous when you’re giving daryl attention and vice versa. he’ll whine and cry and flip onto his back with his paws up in the air to make you look at him. He’s just full of drama.

sometimes when you sneak some of your food to dog, daryl shoots you a glare cause he’d rather you eat and have dog’s share come out of his portion.

when daryl gets back early from a run and can’t find you, dog will ask “where’s yer’ mama? hm?” and then dog will lead him straight to you.

BATH TIME !! you do the washing and daryl does the drying. he doesn’t have the patience to sit there while dog shakes off for the 10th time in a row. so that’s your job :)

when dog shakes his sopping wet coat all over you, daryl can’t hold back his laughter, causing you to splash him with a bit of water. “oh, cause i thought something was funny,” you say as daryl glares your way. 

BED HOG BED HOG BED HOG!!!!!!!

daryl finds him a nice, big dog bed on a run, but dog still prefers sleeping snuggled up to you.

he usually sleeps at the foot end of the bed, but he shoves his snout in between you two and always ends up wiggling up further and further throughout the night.

he likes to push his feet into daryl’s back while you spoon him. 

dog gets locked out of the room when you and daryl have sex because he either gets worried that daryl’s hurting you or he thinks you’re having fun without him.

he’s tried to jump up onto the bed once or twice before, so daryl now lures him out and then quickly shuts the door.

he will 100% scratch at the door and try to shove his nose underneath it to make sure you’re both still in there.

dog thinks killing rabbits, birds and squirrels is a game, so whenever daryl takes him hunting with him he’ll kill them and drop them at daryl’s feet all proud and shit. 

when dog gets the zoomies, you chase him around the house and daryl thinks its the funniest thing in the fucking world because you’ll be chasing him and then he’ll stop for a second and do the play bow and then he’ll take off again.

he’ll also jump up on the couches and launch himself off.

a/n: i’ve never seen anyone do dog head canons before, so i figured i’d do some!!