#grimes reader

You perched on the window sill with your sketchbook, pencil whispering along as you chased the slope of Daryl’s shoulder and the chaos of his bedhead. He grumbled, patted the empty space where your ribs should’ve been, then cracked one eye like a suspicious crocodile.

“What the—”

You ripped the page out, balled it, and beaned him in the shoulder. “Don’t move.”

He blinked at the ceiling. “Am I bein’ robbed?”

“Shh. You’re a life model now. No talking unless it’s, ‘Wow, you’re so talented.’”

He rolled just enough to reach for a pillow and slap it over his face. “Draw Dog, not me,” came out mushy through cotton.

You flipped through the sketchbook—yep, mostly Dog looking judgemental in different seasons. “Dog has a full portfolio. I’m branching into surly Southern men.”

He peeled the pillow down to his nose and took you in: underwear, bad hair, graphite-smudged fingers, gremlin grin. His mouth tipped despite himself. “Why you up?”

“Felt inspired,” you lied, halo already slipping.

“Mmh.” He didn’t buy it, but he let you pretend. “Come back t’bed.”

"Don't wanna," you said, not lifting your head.

"Please - just get back in bed with me."

“Nuh-uh. Muse is musin’.” You squinted at his spine and shaded. “Besides, I’m gonna need something to remember you by while you’re away.”

That landed; his eye cleared the rest of the way. He let the beat sit, then went gentle: “Be back ‘fore you know it. Just a little stretch.”

“Mm-hmm,” you said, which in your dialect meant do not ruin my bit.

He waited two seconds, then moved like a cat: arm stretching out, and the sketchbook vanished from your lap.

“Hey!” You lunged. He held it high, unreadable innocent. “Give it.”

“Huh.” He flipped it open, smirk already loading. “You put a lotta detail on ma arms.”

“Purely anatomical.”

“Even got ma mole.” He grinned wider. “You been starin’ at me like a TV huh?”

“Pay the subscription fee,” you huffed, climbing him like jungle gym equipment. Dog lifted his head, judged you both, and thumped back down.

Daryl arched the book away, laughing. “ Nice work on ma tattoos too.”

“Ugh shut up!” You scrabbled higher. “I should’ve done a self-portrait for your going-away gift so you remember the awesome girlfriend you have waiting at home.”

“Dunno who ya talking 'bout,” he said solemnly.

You punched his shoulder, and he yelped, laughter breaking; in the scramble, he tossed the sketchbook across the bed and hauled you in like gravity had opinions. You bounced; he followed; suddenly, you were a tangle of limbs and blankets, and his grin was right there.

“Gimme my notebook,” you tried, reaching. He caught your wrist and set it on his chest.

“Nah,” he said, smug and soft all at once. “You don’t need no doodle t’remember me. S'stupid.”

“It's a hobby,” you corrected. “You skin bunnies, I prefer to draw 'em.”

"you like drawing dead bunnies?"

"No, not dead, I— shut up."

He kissed you like a signature at the bottom of a page. “Draw ‘em later,” he murmured against your mouth. “Just come to bed.”

“Bossy,” you said, already scooting under him. "I like it."

He kissed you again, and he didn't say anything else - didn't need to - and the covers lifted like a curtain. The pencil skittered off onto the floor; the sketchbook fell open and was forgotten. Laughter blurred into breath and moans, the mattress found a slow rhythm, and his hands bracketed your ribs like margins while you traced him by feel—light strokes turning sure, shading deepening, edges softening until the lines ran together. Dog sighed like a scandalised chaperone and turned away; the window bloomed with fog; the headboard tapped the minutes away and then stilled. When it was over, the room smelled faintly of graphite and heat, your pulse sketching quick little crescents against his palm, and the blank page on the floor looked almost smug—like it knew the piece had been finished off the paper.

---------------------------------------------

The gate rattled in the wind, early sun throwing thin gold across the gravel. Michonne stood beside you with her arms folded, hip leaned to the post, wearing the look of a woman who’d already said goodbye three times and was trying not to make it four. The truck idled. Rick checked something under the hood he’d already checked, hat tipped back. Daryl slung his crossbow, gave Dog a last scratch, and came to you first like he always did.

“Be safe,” you said, fingers finding the ripped seam of his shirt.

“Alright,” he murmured, quick and rough, and dropped a kiss to your mouth that was almost nothing and somehow everything. “Love ya.”

"Love you too," you beamed.

You were still smiling when Rick called over, grin crooked. “No hug for your big brother?”

“In a sec,” you shot back, already curling a hand in Daryl’s vest and tugging him a few steps away by the gate. He went willingly, confusion pinching his brow.

“Uh… what's up?” he asked, eyes skimming your face like he was looking for the bad news.

You glanced at Michonne (pointedly not listening), at Rick (definitely pretending not to watch), then back to Daryl. “Okay, so… remember that time I was washing your jeans after that run last month?”

He squinted. “...Uh-huh.”

“And you got mad at me for not checking the pockets first because the photo was still in there.”

The realization spread up his face like a sunrise—shock, horror, badly hidden pride. Color hit the tips of his ears. “Oh. Right, yeah.”

“Right.” You slid a folded sheet from the inside pocket of your jacket and pressed it into his palm. “I made you a… replacement. For the road.”

He unfolded it.

His throat worked around nothing. “That’s…” His eyes did a full, stunned sweep and came back for a second pass. “…very… life-like.”

“Artist’s interpretation,” you said, trying not to laugh at the way his pupils had gone a shade darker. “Figured pencil travels better than, y’know, water-damaged contraband.”

He didn’t seem to hear that last part. He was still looking—no, staring—like he could fall into paper. Then his gaze snapped up to your mouth, to your chest, then down again, like he was triangulating a crime scene and this evidence was going straight to hell with him.

“Daryl!” Rick’s hand clapped down on his shoulder from behind. “You ready to—”

Daryl moved at lightning speed, folding the drawing so fast it might’ve sparked, jamming it into his back pocket like it was a live grenade. He turned half a step, shoulders squared, expression suddenly church-appropriate.

Rick’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

“Map,” Daryl said too quickly.

Michonne coughed into her fist. You bit your lip.

Rick decided to let it go. He dragged you in for a hug, big-brother tight, and murmured, “love you” into your hair. When he leaned back his gaze flicked once to the hickey peeking above the neckline of your shirt; he pretended to discover something fascinating on the horizon instead. “We’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“You better,” you said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but his smile said thanks. " I'll bring your man back in one piece."

"I mean you too, asshole."

Daryl hovered two steps away like a magnet you hadn’t let go of yet. You turned to him and fixed his collar, buying yourself another heartbeat. “Be careful with it,” you said quietly. "I'm not making you another one."

“Alright, alright,,” he muttered, thumb tapping the edge of his pocket like he could feel the graphite through denim. His eyes softened, all that flinty road-wiring going loose for you. “I’ll… uh. Yeah.”

“Go,” you said, because if you didn’t he wouldn’t.

He nodded once, then dipped close enough that only you caught it. “I’ll miss ya.” It landed clean in your chest, a little bruise you didn’t mind keeping.

You slid a hand into the back pocket where the paper lived and gave it a light tap. "I'm gonna miss you too.. I hate sleeping without you," you said, words slow and husky. "But the drawing I did for you should help," and you winked at him.

Then he stepped back before you could grab him and tie him down so he couldn't leave.

They climbed in. Doors slammed. The truck rolled through the gate with the usual rattle.

A minute down the road, Rick cut a look over the wheel. “You gotta at least try to keep this thing with my sister on the low,” he said, voice dry as a desert. "I'd rayher not see a hickey on my sister thanks."

Shit.

Daryl’s mouth opened on instinct, then he shut it, scratched the back of his neck, and blew out a surrendering breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

Back at the gate, Michonne bumped your shoulder. “War wife wave complete,” she said. “You good?”

“Remember when we were little and I stole your toy truck?” You whispered, firm hand gripping his own. Rick looked like every other body you had seen in your line of work. But he wasn’t like them.

That seems like a insensitive thing to say- as if those bodies weren’t people too, once alive- laughing, crying- breathing people. (ironic considering what you’re reading huh? guess we’re all just bodies in the grand scheme of things.) but the difference was- Rick wasn’t dead. He was in an induced comatose state, hooked up to several ivs, machines clicking and beeping as they worked to keep him stabilized. It sounded like your new life, the sounds you had grown so accustomed to- now surrounding the memories of a life you once lived.

They had gone into surgery before you had even arrived, bullet wounds dressed in thick, white bandages. You wouldn’t label yourself as a paranoid individual, but you wouldn’t lie when you said you checked them at least once or twice since you had been there. They had to force you out by the time visitation hours closed- you begged, attempting to use your badge, your rank as an individual, to stay with him in the hospital. Your brother had always been a protector- but seeing him now, you felt as if it was your time to return the favor. Alas, most people in the United States who worked in healthcare were jackasses, so they were the least bit lenient, and you were sent home.

Shane had temporarily moved in with Lori and Carl, your sister in-law and nephew almost dependent on him as Rick slipped into his unresponsive state. You didn’t blame her for needing the extra help, that’s why you had flown all the way from the UK to see her.

Now, you would say your relationship with Shane was strained- you two definitely got along FAIRLY well in your youth- but let’s just say, his aggravating ass could’ve been an attributing factor to your occupation being across the ocean. So seeing him now- well, you wished it'd be under better circumstances- this didn’t really give you the chance to be an ass towards him.

“Hey, Aunt Y/N-“ Carl started.

“Yeah babe?”

“What’s it like? In Europe?” He came to sit next to you, the couch barely shifting underneath his weight.

“It’s not as hot as this, I can tell you that. Jesus Christ, I don’t know how you put up with it. So glad I left-“

He giggled at that, head leaning down upon your shoulder. You smiled. You had never given a thought to having kids- hell, you never really dwelled on relationships. High School was a mess, leaving you with an untasteful look into what future relationships could hold for you- highschool sweethearts were hard to come by, Lori and Rick being an exception, but even now you could attest that there was nothing “sweet” about them. They had a rocky relationship, as much as you’d like to say you didn’t blame either of them for their quarrels, Lori left you often surprised at what problem she had conjured up against your brother. Nevertheless, your brother raised you right, and you knew she meant well. For the most part.

“It’s not that bad! We have ice cream-“

“Oooh yes, Ice Cream.” Shane joined in, walking over to the couch with a mug in his hand. Coffee sounded so good right now. “Y/N, I didn’t get to welcome you back properly- so, I hope this will suffice. You’ve been real busy with Rick- so. Relax a bit.”

You take the mug almost immediately, eyelids slightly lowering as you brought it near to your face. You sipped from it, body immediately encased in a foreign warmth. You couldn’t imagine a world without coffee. (Woo child, get ready too.) “Relaxing would be wonderful, Shane. If only that was possible.”

He laughed, save his questionable sense of humor, as his hands went to mess with the remote control to the tv.

“Can I have some coffee-?” Carl curiously asked, eyes wide as he took in the glorious mug cemented in your hands. He half expected you to hiss, like a vampire revealed in the light- but you merely smiled, hands lowering the mug to his lips.

“Careful Carl, it’s hot.” You giggled. He honestly felt more like a brother than a nephew, reminding you of Rick when he was younger. It was uncanny.

He took one sip and recoiled- cheeks puffing out as heat swelled to his face. “Gross-! It tastes burnt!”

“Yeah, because there’s no sugar in it, idiot.” You responded, hand going to mess with his hair. He groaned in response, body sinking into the couch to avoid your hand. Despite the noise, Shane seemed rather distracted by what was on the tv, driving your attention away from giving Carl the biggest noogie of his life.

‘UK GOES UNDER GROWING PANDEMIC, MARTIAL LAW ACTIVE’ in big bold letters. A news lady giving a report, videos and photos of strange, sickly people. What a time to come over to the states, am I right? What the hell did you miss? Surely this couldn’t be related to the patient you had seen a week ago- something couldn’t spread this fast. Not normally, you’d get a sign first- a warning.

Was that patient your warning? Had you left them unattended to see your brother- was this your fault?

“Well shit, you know anything about that?” Shane pointed the remote at the tv, drawing his hand back down to the side of the couch. You jumped, almost as if he had read your thoughts. “Lori, you hearin’ this?” He called to her, distracting her from her frazzled, grieving state in the other room.

“What?” Now she had another thing to worry about- great, thanks Shane. “What the hell is that?”

You just stared, eyes narrowed, struggling to fully understand the concept placed in front of you. Videos of people biting- no, eating other people. It was something out of the horror games you’d used to play- Silent Hill level shit. “I didn’t hear about any of this.” You whispered, eyes trailing down to Carl, who seemed equally perplexed as his mother. She looked so lost.

“I’m sure it’ll be taken care of- Martial Law is a big deal.” The only thing you could muster, eyes meeting Lori’s. She looks grateful for your attempt, but it did nothing to calm the panic behind her eyes.

And as if the good lord was smiling down on you, he decided to prove you wrong. One more fucking time.

Which brings you to now, things stuffed in a car as you waited on Shane to come back with your brother. You were semi-confident- (haha, right)- in your abilities, as a scientist and a doctor, that you could take care of your brother in his state while you got the FUCK out of Kings County and to Atlanta. The pandemic- newly named the Apocalypse, was the fuel of everyone’s Halloween, Michael Jackson: Thriller inspired nightmare. Zombies everywhere, but they weren’t dancing- no, they were just- doing.. zombie things. I guess.

That’s making light of a situation that was not fucking funny. It actually, to your dismay, was as dry and dark as Shane’s humor.

Carl and Lori laid in the back seat of the car, huddled away from the windows as you sat in the driver's seat. Stressed was an understatement, you were scared shitless. Waiting for your brother and his best friend to come out of those hospital doors, government troops rushing in and out of them at the same time- guns, gunshots, sirens- those dead people walking the streets, steering for any sound, anything that moves.

“Shiiit, come on Shane- come on-“ you were gripping the steering wheel, leather squeaking as you strangled it, nails nearly folding in on themselves as you pressed. “Oh shit-“ you watched as a gun was shot by an army soldier, a bullet fatally landing in a corpse's head, its body dropping afterward. Blood flew everywhere, your eyes growing heavy as you wished to close them- close them and wake up only to find that this was a dream.

You know that before this, you had wished your brothers accident was a dream- a stupid, fucked dream, but this was so much worse- and the candle on top? it might’ve just been your fault.

But to your experience, the Grimes family had a strange way of coming to church, and if being the subject of every plague was your way of repenting, God was giving you no chance to miss it this time.

Which, must've been why he had sent Shane back out of that building without your brother over his shoulder.

The past few days seem to fly by pretty fast, the awkward feeling in camp became less tense now that you and Shane had made amends.

To your dismay, you hadn’t done much to improve the relationship (if you could call it that) you had started with Daryl. You had short conversations here and there, most of them ending with a curt way of saying “piss off”. Of course, saying he did it curtly was your way of saying that he was such an asshole about it- but you preferred to see the best in people sometimes.

He did- however, seem to humor the idea of teaching you how to track. That excited you more than clean laundry, and that was saying a lot, considering that was something you imagine most people would kill for. Thankfully for your group at the quarry, you had access to fresh, semi-clean water. The women at camp seemed to be the default choice to wash it however, which is something you highly questioned- but as of now, you’ve never been asked to assist. You knew it was because to everyone else, you were held higher in importance; You were included in Shane’s decision making, clearly making you a leader and vital number to the group.

But you wondered if that’s all you were to them. A number. A long shot in the dark to finding a cure.

You knew, deep down, something about that patient of yours in the hospital was unorthodox. Even though the body had no pulse, even though there was no blood flow- there was brain activity. As if the body was on auto pilot. They weren’t alive, nor acted like it. The body was a cadaver, nothing more, nothing less.

Or was it.

Could you be to blame? Was your subject of study the cause? The catalyst to something this extreme? If you hadn’t been called, if you hadn’t left the UK- could you have stopped it?

If Rick hadn’t been shot, would you have been killed instead?

These thoughts weren’t healthy, nor normal- but something in you crawled, burying itself in your gut. You were going to be sick.

You stumbled into the woods, hand covering your mouth as you hurriedly made your way to a bush. Bile rose to your throat in the form of claws, tearing at your esophagus. Flashes of teeth, eyes- blood. Red. Red. Red.

RED.

You threw up. The guilt of your brothers abandoned body in a hospital bed breathing down your neck. You held your own hair to the side of your shoulder, other hand bracing your weight on your knee.

You threw up again. This time, you could feel the guilt of your job- something you failed to do, weigh across the blades of your shoulders. You coughed, blinking as black dots seemed to vanish from view, revealing the world again.

There was no red, there were no teeth, there were no claws- just a bush that had unfortunately felt the wrath of your weak stomach.

How embarrassing.

But, for once…the world was quiet, save for the birds that calmly sung through the trees. It was all… surreal. Everything seemed normal. A brief glimpse of your childhood, your parents, your brother.

You missed it, honestly. The life before you grew up. You’d give anything to go bac-

“Hey-! The hell you doin’?” Daryl approached, cross bow slung over his shoulder as he had a cig in his mouth. He had seen you run from camp.

You jerked, wiping your mouth and clearing your throat. “N-Nothing-! I just-“ there was no point in lying. “I felt sick. Don’t look in the bush. Seriously.”

He irked at that, nose scrunching up in disgust. “Didn’t take you for someone with a weak stomach. You sick or sumin’?”

“Awe, you care?”

“As if. S’ wonderin’ if I need to stay further away from ya’ is all.” He spat, eyes looking at the floor.

“I’m not sick. Just- felt like… throwing up?”

“You one of those girls?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You purge yourself or sum’ shit? Woulda figured that disorder shit disappeared with the rest of this shit-“

“No- no! I just- got really upset. It made me sick.”

“Hm. Sounds like bullshit.”

“Get your hearing checked, then, asshole.”

“Maybe if you made any damn sense, I would understand.”

“Read a book, Dixon.”

“Learn to shoot, Grimes.”

“I CAN shoot-“

“Bullshit.”

“Then teach me. If you don’t believe I can shoot, teach me. I’ll prove you wrong.”

He went quiet there.

“Ahah!” You cheered in victiry “got you, smartass.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Huh-?”

“Before dawn. Wake your ass up or I’ll leave ya. We’ll go hunt.”

taglist:🏷️:

Men fucking suck.

Saved your ass? You had it handled perfectly. Of course you struggled- a little bit, but you were close to shooting it yourself. However, you kept your thoughts personal as you lifted yourself to your feet, backing away from the two men before lightly raising your gun.

“If you can’t even shoot somethin’ dead, I can’t imagine you shootin’ one of us, aye, sugar tits?” The older one drawled, his southern accent rivaling the English ones you were used to. “Put the gun down, or maybe I’ll just have lil’ Darlina make you.” He gestured to the man beside him. With the threat, you cautiously lowered your arm to your side, finger still placed on the trigger.

‘Darlina’, the man in question, was quiet, eyes narrowing at the sudden volun-told request. He had an air about him, a man who didn’t miss much, or say much about it.

“You’d finally get some hands-on action with a female, Daryl…” The other man nudged him knowingly, his voice pulled into a mocked snarl. It was clear you weren’t seen as an equal in this conversation.

He did nothing but scoff in response, his rough, calloused hands taking hold of the arrow lodged in the walker's head. He grunted, flinging it slightly as blood flew, splattering the already discolored leaves.

“…Well aren’t you both just.. so….” You struggled for the words to say, finding that no possible word the dictionary might provide would prove suitable for the men in front of you. “….lovely.” You settled, brow raising as you took a mental note of their person, scanning for weapons. “A word of advice, don’t do anything stupid. I’ve got people nearby, a whole bunch of them.”

“Ah, yeah… we know already. Been watchin’ ya, campin’ out even. How funny is that, it’s like a big ol’ sleepover!”

“Merle.” The younger one spoke out, forbidding him to say too much. His voice mirrored the state of his hands, deep, warm…and rough. It suited him.

Daryl and Merle, what a pair of brothers. Almost made you think about yours.

“So,” The older one, Merle, clicked his tongue, hands stroking the end of his gun, the action almost overbearingly possessive. That visual was unsettling. “I dare say you owe us a lil’ welcome gift for savin’ yer’ ass…” His eyes ran over your form. “Darlin’.”

“Again, I didn’t need saving. I had it covered.” You scoffed, hand grasping your gun that laid dormant in your hands, obviously as a warning. “And don’t call me ‘darlin’, I don’t owe you shit.” You knew better than to turn your back to strangers, much less in a world full of men. Pricks like this, pricks like MERLE, were not to be trusted.

As for the brother, that was yet to be decided.

You took the time of silence to look over them again. The younger brother, Daryl, had a cross bow, the same one that had saved you from that freak minutes prior. Across his shoulders, a rabbit and a few other animals were linked together with string, his catches of the day.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t need a hunter on your side. With the people you had back at camp, no one checked the boxes like he did.

He was tall, rough looking- and his arms- GOD his arms. He could use a hair cut, sure, but he was pretty enough to look at.

“…But, about that gift-“ you started, but shrinked back slightly when Merle smirked in your direction. “No. I’m not fucking you if that’s what you think you’re getting into.”

“Ah, shame.”

“I was going to offer a place back at camp. You’d have to start pulling your weight- but my people could use your experience.” You looked to Daryl, truthfully because this offer was because of him. “And you’d have a comfortable place to stay in return. Strength in numbers. Clean clothes.” You gently put your gun back in its holster. “Of course, if you’re not interested, pretend we never met. If you come to my camp- mess with my people, I promise you,” You paused, eyes tracing over to Merle. “I’ll make you see how capable I am with a gun.”

This time, Merle seemed to understand your message. He didn’t laugh, instead, he passed a glance to his brother and cleared his throat.

“Darlina, as the bitch of our little duo, you got any complaints?”

The younger brother didn’t seem amused, nor elated about the offer. He just grunted, a small “whatever”, leaving his lips before looking at the ground.

You smiled at that. The thought of not only bringing food back to camp, but also capable- strong hunters? This could really boost people’s spirits. Of course, Shane might give you hell for it, but besides the.. obvious sexual harassment from the Merle, you didn’t have any outweighing reasons to not trust them, (Besides the age old rule: don’t trust anyone).

Your journey back to the quarry seemed longer than it should’ve been, spent in awkward silence as the heat of the setting sun stilled around you. You could only hear the footsteps of the two brothers who followed you, one of them proceeding to prod you with questions you didn’t waste time by answering. Your silence seemed to amuse him enough, thankfully, as you began to see the break in the trees.

As soon as you stepped into the clearing, you were bombarded with your name, a pair of footsteps running towards you.

“Oh, thank god!” Lori’s body collided with yours, arms wrapping around your neck. “Where the hell did you go?! How far did you get?! You scared the shit out of me, do you understand?!” She was panicked, voice raising an octave as she chastised you like a child.

She wasn’t alone, as a new voice interrupted hers. Shane. “That settles it, you’re no longer going out by yoursel-“

“Oh, don’t you worry, she was plenty safe.” Merle walked out from the treeline behind you, quickly followed by his brother, Daryl, who had a harsh grip on his crossbow. “Afterall, we were with the little lady, ain’t that right?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Shane pressed, shoving you and your sister-in-law behind him. “You need to back up-“

“Watch it.” Daryl warned, lip pulled into a snarl, almost like a dog who had his tail between his legs. “We didn’t do anythin’. She offered ta’ bring us back to yer’ camp.” He raised the net of animals he had caught before, strung along lifelessly as they hung.

“She what?” Lori repeated, to no one in particular. “You what?!” She turned to you this time, eyes wide in anger. “You lead two strange men here, knowing we have children- MY child here?!”

“Lori, calm down-“ you started, hands raising in your defense. “They’re hunters. They saved me from a freak. I got lost. I thought-“

“No.” Shane answered the question you never got to ask. “They’re not welcome here. We are perfectly capable-“

“Oh that’s BULLSHIT Shane, and you know it.” This time you were the one to get in his face, eyes narrowing as your finger poked at his chest. “You’re not making decisions for everyone. You’re not in charge. We agreed this was a team effort. You act like you’re some fuckin’ dictator.”

“Excuse me? At least I’m the one trying to keep this camp safe-“

“Says the one who couldn’t even do that for my brother.”

The words flew out before you could even register them, and to your dismay, you regretted it quickly. Lori’s face fell, jaw slacking as her eyes watered. She left quickly, hand covering her mouth like she was going to be sick.

Shane, on the other hand, looked at you like he didn’t recognize you. Or, more so that he didn’t want to.

“I bet you feel fuckin great, don’t you?”

“…Shane-“

“Who gives a shit anymore, let em’ stay then. They aren’t staying in camp. They can camp outside, near Ed and Carol.” He pointed the way, eyes still concentrated on you. “Hope it was worth it.”

He left you with that, probably to chase after Lori, something you knew you should’ve done to begin with.

“Well I’ll be damned..” Merle snorted. “Got ourselves a spitfire, don’t we? I knew I liked you.”

The compliment didn’t feel deserved, nor appreciated.

“I’ll take you to a nice spot to set up.” You spoke lowley, eyes narrowing as Shane disappeared into Lori’s tent.

Hopefully Carl would never hear about what you said, you don’t think you could live with that.

The past few days had gone by rather slowly. After your ‘outburst’, as Shane liked to call it, you had yet to speak to him face to face. He was an ass, sure, and you said something you shouldn’t have, but at the end of the day you were sick of how he treated you.

On a brighter note, the newer additions to your camp had made a prominent impression.

Merle, who was advised to stay the fuck away from Andrea, seemed to ignore that and challenge it instead.

Daryl, however, no one had successfully cracked, nor really tried.

Dale, bless his soul, made it a point to converse with all of your allies in camp. You’re sure you heard Daryl call him “Old Man” before, but, to your surprise it didn’t sound much like an insult.

That led you to now, as you awkwardly sat beside him in silence. You hadn’t talked since he came here, besides a small ‘hi’, ‘thank you’, or ‘goodnight’ whenever you happened to see eachother.

He was skinning a rabbit, knife slicing through its skin with ease, obvious that he had years of experience.

You, on the other hand, were monitoring the stew above the fire. You were sure even without the blaze beneath it, the Georgia heat was enough to cook it right off the bone.

“So. Have you always been good at that?”

You decided at that moment, you’d be the first to befriend Daryl.

He grunted, almost like he was asking you to further elaborate your question.

“Skinning animals- hunting, all that stuff.” You clarified, leaning with your chin in the palm of your hand.

“Guess so.” He didn’t seem like much of a talker.

You laughed to yourself, muttering something under your breath.

“Wha’ was that?” He looked at you, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Oh, nothing- just said, ‘people like you must have a field day with this kind of stuff’, but then I realized- I don’t think anyone could find this.. shit… fun.”

He scoffed, eyes rolling as he went to look back at the rabbit in his hands.

“…You’re much nicer than Merle lets on.” You suddenly spoke again, not finding any comfort in the silence.

“What’s tha’ supposed to mean?” He paused again, sounding more irritated than the last time.

“Oh, don’t take offense.” You raised your hands in defense. “I meant it in a nice way.”

“Well I ain’t nice, let’s get that righ’. I don’t need no fixin’ either.” He responded, throwing you a harsh look.

“Didn't say all that.” You smiled in response, realizing his rough exterior might just be a defensive mechanism.

It seemed like half an hour until conversation started again, sweat dripping down your temple as the sun got higher into the sky. This time, it wasn’t you who spoke first.

“…..Yer’ brother.” Daryl started. “…you two close?”

“…We….” You started, but stopped as quickly as it came to you. “…Rick was..”

Was? That felt odd to say out loud.

“He’s my older brother… he’s really important to me.” You smiled, fondly at the thought of him.

“…Hm. That other guy. The.. prick. He your boyfriend or somethin?” He must be talking about Shane.

“NO- no! Shane?! Fuck no-“ you giggled, a genuine laugh rising from your throat. “Fuckin’ gross. He’s more like an annoying older brother. He wished I gave him the time of day, but- narcissistic, sexist assholes aren’t my type.”

“I’ll make sure Merle gets that message.” He (almost) laughed at that, his lips perking up at the sides.

“I really appreciate that. That would be nice-“

And with that, the moment was cut short as your name was called across the camp. You gave Daryl a small smile before lifting yourself from your spot, sighing as you were bound to be face to face with the voice's owner.

Shane.

He called your name again, this time, walking towards you from camp.

“I’m coming!” You replied. “Jeez, I’m comin, I’m going..” You stopped in front of him, face to face. You were close enough that you could see the beads of sweat dripping from his forehead.

“What.” You gritted out of your teeth, eyes focused on his own.

“I think we need to talk.”

“…go for it.” You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m listening.”

“We. As in the both of us need to talk. A team effort.” He strained his voice on the word ‘team’. Shane was attempting to be sincere.

“Oh, so there’s a ‘we’ now? Where was the ‘team effort’ when you were making decisions for us all?” You pressed, voice rising an octave as you leaned with your hip, hand resting on it.

“You’re right-“ He sighed, hands raising in submission.

“Yeah, and that’s not even-“ you paused. You were right..?

“Oh.”

“I shouldn’t have let myself take control of everything, but you’ve got to understand where I was coming from. Where I AM coming from.” Shane replied to your perplexed response.

“….Go on.” You dropped your arm, straightening up.

“…I am doing everything I can to stay strong for you, Lori, and Carl- I know you’ve always been able to take care of yourself, but even a strong person can’t make it on their own.” He sighed, breath shaky. “I would know.”

“…Shane-“ You didn’t mean for him to get sentimental with you, but you could feel your soft spot fall weak to his words.

“Let me finish.” He cut you off. “I… You don’t know what I saw in there- I miss Rick too. He was like my brother. He WAS my brother- he meant everything to me. You mean everything to me. Lori, Carl, You-“ He placed his hands on your shoulders. “Rick would kill me if I didn’t prioritize you three first, above all else. If that means being the bad guy- I’d gladly do it, even if the consequence is pissin’ you off..” he laughed at that, smiling as your expression mirrored his own. “You made a good call. With the Hunter and his… questionable brother.” Merle. “We haven’t had to stress over food as much. I’m proud of you.”

For some reason, your chest felt warm. He was proud of you. He really was like a brother, even if he could never amount to Rick- you were glad he was there.

With that, you hugged him- a small laugh erupting from your throat as you felt tears pricking at your eyes. “You’re such an asshole-“

“Yeah, yeah- I know-“ His arms cradled you, chin resting on your head.

“…I really am sorry for what I said… about Rick.”

“Hm, no, it was deserved.”

“..Yeah, but that doesn’t make it right.”

“Rick would’ve said the same thing.”

“….Yeah.” You smiled.

You didn’t think much of that conversation with Shane afterwards, regarding it as water under the bridge. Funny, considering most bridges burn down.

With that being said, the two of you separated and departed from each other, you taking this moment to go back to sitting next to Daryl by the fire.

“I’m back.” You hummed, taking your spot on the chair beside his own. “What did I miss?” Absolutely nothing.

He rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, scoffing lightly as he cleaned his knife. He had finished skinning the rabbit, the meat brewing in the pot.

“Nothing, I guess. That’s alright.” You concluded, looking off towards the woods in your boredom. “Hey, random request, but I wanna go with you next time you go out. On a trip.”

“Ya can ‘wanna’ all you want, but the hell ya’ ain’t.” He responded fast, his movement around the knife staggering.

“Why not? I’m pretty sure I could help or- atleast learn a few things. I wanna know how to track.”

“sonabitch’” He muttered to himself, setting the knife aside. “I don’ need ya’ chasin away the game, yer’ the one who’s makin’ me feed everyone.”

“Well- it doesn’t have to be just you. That’s why I wanna learn.”

“I said no, bitch- final answer.”

“…Hm, I’ll ask later.” You smiled, standing up. “I’m gonna go find Carl, holler if ya need me.” With that, you left, unaware of the fact that the Hunter was indeed thinking about your proposal.

Unfortunately due to your inability to take no for an answer, you were exactly someone Daryl would typically avoid.

Key word, typically.

taglist:🏷️: @poubxlle @kovieky @fallenkitten @dixonsboy19 @gamingfeline

Prior to the apocalypses reign in the States, you had received a call from your colleague when the UK had just been shut down for quarantine. They had asked- urgently, for any information based upon your latest research. Now that you thought about it, it seemed suspicious of you to leave so urgently after working on a patient who undoubtedly was a cause of this pandemic. You had told them all you knew, bacteria, infection- ants.

Why ants? Well, you were sure it had something to do with the zombie ant fungus native to the rainforests of South America. This disease was capable of taking pathogenesis and altering the entire behavioral system of an ant, and making it a tool for conquering. To an extent, this victim would die spreading a disease- but unfortunately, not all of the symptoms in this apocalypse matched those. But it was entirely possible- the thought of the world sweltering due to atmospheric change, global warming- who wasn’t to say such a fungi wouldn’t adapt to its surroundings? In an attempt of desperation, try a different host? Not to say this was all caused by an ant, but there were no theories that served as a proper alternative.

You couldn’t even cry, that’s how strange this all was. Your brother was dead, and you couldn’t feel a thing but the adrenaline rush. If you weren’t careful, you were sure to rear end someone on the highway as they all seemed to slow down. To be honest, you weren’t that familiar to road rage, but this was a new level of anger.

Shane was sitting in the passenger seat, arm propped up on the open window. It was too hot to sit idle in a car, underneath the setting sun, on the middle of a highway in Georgia. Atlanta better be worth it.

An accident of some sorts had happened up on the road, a blockage of cars preventing the caravan from moving further into Atlanta. This called for the people in their cars to gather outside, mingle together at any chance for survival or support until they were able to make it there safely. Which- to some people, is a good thing. Strength in numbers. But if you learned anything from your line of work, and you were sure Shane knew it too, people don’t change overnight when the world goes to shit. Maybe their world was shit already, and this only would give them an excuse to act out and lose the last ounce of morality they had.

You sat on the car's hood, a melted popsicle in hand as you watched Carl talk to a girl about his age. You had packed the last few Otterpops left in your freezer, and it was holding Carl over, and you were surely content as you could be. Lori and Shane had wandered with a group of people into the woods, dusk falling over the sky. Helicopters flew past overhead, their propellers slicing through the air as you bit into the ice.

“My Aunt is the coolest! She’s a scientist- I think she can figure this whole thing out-!” Carl, bless his heart, was just excited he had someone to talk to. But things like that- saying you could potentially save the world? That was a large claim, and you were unsure you were fit to fill the expectation.

“A scientist?” Sophia responded, looking up at you. “You don’t look like a scientist.”

“I don’t look like a lot of things.” You responded, smiling down at her as you pushed yourself off the hood of Shane’s jeep. “I am a scientist but-“

“So you know what’s going on?” Sophia’s mother, Carol, seemed to train attention to the conversation. “What ‘this’ is?”

“Well- it’s really hard to say, but before I left my research, I had found that it could be related to fungi-“

“Or the wrath of God!” Carl finished for you.

“Yeah. That too.”

This didn’t seem to bring any comfort to Carol or her daughter, but she seemed keen on staying around you. “Do you think… you could fix it?”

“Well- I don’t know if IM the right one for that, there are plenty of other experienced people in my field-“

“But could you?”

“Carol, stop fucking around with this woman.” Her husband came out of their car, eyes narrowed as he grabbed her wrist. “Sorry if she’s bothering you, Doc.” The nickname was bitter, almost as if it was drenched in venom.

“No. It’s okay. I’m just afraid I don’t know all the answers.” You laughed anxiously, looking back at Carl as you ruffled his hair.

He laughed at that. How charming, if you could roll your eyes you would. “I wouldn’t leave that job to a woman anyway, leave it to the professionals.”

“Excuse me?” Out of all the misogynistic things said to you your whole life, this was honestly something you weren't expecting. You were pissed, other hand clenched around the otterpop that was long gone by now. Before you could get another word out, the horizon lit up in large, orange plumes of light. The ground shook, noises comparable to thunder flooded the air. Helicopters whipped past, smoke visibly now as it surfaced over Atlanta.

What happened to Atlanta being safe?! Safe my ass.

Carl dove for your arms, hands gripping the back of your tank top as he shook. “Where’s mom-?! She should’ve been back-“

“Shh- no, she’s fine. She’s with Shane, alright? He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Just like I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” You whispered, kissing your head. “See? See, people are coming back from the woods. Lo will be here.” You really had to work on your comforting skills, because as much as you wanted Carl to believe your words, you weren’t sure you believed them either.

The next few days were slow, hot, and downright depressing. You had found a group at that blockade on the highway a few days back, and had located yourself at a quarry. Your new found purpose was in the form of a man named Dale, sisters Amy and Andrea, T-Dog, Glenn, Morales and his family, Jacqui, Jim, Carol, Ed, and Sophia- you were never popular in highschool, so this really must be your IT girl phase.

Rumors of your ex-occupation spread fast, Carl not leaving a single detail out. You were unsure if he was saying these things to show off, or convince himself that this world could be fixed. It was sad when you thought about it, Carl never really had the chance to be a kid. He was about- eleven now? No, twelve. This really was a reminder you weren’t around much. You were glad you were here now at least, and you were damn sure Carl wouldn’t leave your sight this time. Lori could take care of herself- well, more like Shane would take care of her instead. You weren’t going to act dumb, you knew the way Shane looked at her wasn’t just friendly. Nothing about Shane was “just friendly”.

People seemed to keep you close, constantly making conversation with you- questioning you on your job. You hate to say it, but you didn’t get the job for the money or the attention. You weren’t like a NASA scientist or whatever- so this was strange. People were so convinced you were some special, intelligent alien from another world- but you were just a woman in her twenties.

Rick would know what to do. Rick always knew what to do, he’s the reason you got out of Kings County- because he told you that you were meant for more. Not to be locked in a life you couldn’t escape. You had no doubt Rick loved his son and wife, family was a big part of being a Grimes, but you knew you weren’t just your family name, and he did too.

All the things you could’ve said to him, and you couldn’t. And now he was dead, probably mauled to death in some hospital bed, infected- a freakish monster, much like the ones he promised to protect you from when you were just a child.

How you missed the times when THAT was the thing to be afraid of.

You liked your time alone, you had always been a loner- but this was another level. Walking alone as a woman was scary enough- but now it was much more than men who would grab you without thinking twice. Now they didn’t have to think at all. Despite this, you enjoyed walking out by yourself- with a firearm of course, considering nothing was really illegal and it was the ONLY option anyway. Besides, the group didn’t have any real, concrete food sources, and you were damned to hell if Shane was really going to feed you all frogs for dinner. So you offered to find berries and plants that were edible, because- not to brag, you were pretty darn smart when it came to a lot of things.

The pine straw shuffled beneath your feet, sun slowly setting above you as birds softly chirped overhead, almost as if they were scared to draw too much attention. Your lips were pressed into a thin line, a small drop of sweat dripping down your forehead at a leisurely pace. You had a bucket with you, filled with all sorts of plants you had collected from the underbrush. You missed real food- even squirrels were starting to look better on a dinner plate than in a tree- and that’s when you KNOW you’ve gone crazy. Maybe the apocalypse wasn’t for everyone, but your resilience made you a strong contender- but also, a really big fucking idiot.

Picky eaters suck ass in situations like this.

You didn’t get too terribly far, but you were starting to realize that your surroundings were becoming a little bit too unfamiliar for your liking. With this in mind, you noted that you should probably head back soon as the sun was getting lower every passing moment.

Your feet turned, body instantly colliding with something as you fell to the ground. A freak. A fucking freak gnawing at you- shaky hands keeping his jaw lengths away from your face. How had you not heard it?! What the fuck- Teeth, nails, teeth, nails, teeth- teeth teeth teeth- watch the teeth!

You cursed, hand reaching for your gun as your bucket was long gone from your grasp. You struggled, grunting as you attempted to push its body off of you with just one hand. How fucking embarrassing- no one had ever caught you this off guard before, much less a freak.

“Get the fuck off! Get off-!” You yelled, hand finally freeing your gun from your belt. You knew loud noises would draw them- you couldn’t risk that, not with your camp near. You ALSO knew that if they heard a gun fire, you couldn’t pretend to know nothing about it. Shane would never let you out again if he knew what a close call you had. So, you did the next best thing. You slammed the butt of your gun straight into its head, knocking it off of you. It rolled, gurgling as it went to stand again. You rolled away, hands pushing yourself up as you turned to face it again. You raised your gun, mentally preparing for the shit show Shane and Lori were going to be when you got back, having fired a gun-

You aimed, fingering the trigger as you slowed your breathing. Remember what Rick taught you, slow, precise- shoot.

The walker fell, but you hadn’t pulled the trigger.

A second passed as you stared.

Another, as you lowered your gaze to the ground.

In its head, where the bullet would’ve been, was a carbon arrow with a green fletching.

“Well look a’ what we have ‘ere, Darlina… I dare say you just saved her ass.”

Men fucking suck.