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Now, this was the confirmation that you’d been waiting for. You were pregnant. Just as fast as the excitement had hit, you were flooded with anxiety. How the hell were you supposed to raise a child? What if this changed your relationship with your husband? While you silently panicked, Daryl made his way into the bathroom. He’d been on patrol, and you’d taken the test on your own because you’d expected it to be negative.

Caught off guard by your crying, Daryl rushed over to you and cupped your face in his rough hands. He assumed that you’d gotten a negative result again, and he immediately began reassuring you. His voice was soft in a way that it only got around you.

“Oh, honey. It’s okay. We weren’t even tryin’.”

You could tell that he’d misinterpreted the situation, and you quickly shook your head. Leaning into his touch, you laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his palm.

“Daryl, it’s positive. That’s why I’m crying.”

Momentarily in shock, Daryl froze and didn’t say anything. The man looked like a deer in headlights, and it took all your strength to not erupt into another fit of giggles. You leaned forward and kissed the underside of his jaw, which was comically hanging open. Your smile widened and you teased him lightly.

“Are you gonna say anythin’, my love? Or are you just gonna stare?”

“I just-. Holy shit, sweetheart. You’re really pregnant?”

“Yes, Daryl. I’m really pregnant. It worked.”

Having collected himself, Daryl nodded and felt a little cocky. He’d finally succeeded in getting you pregnant. He was going to be a father. The idea was simultaneously terrifying and beyond exciting. Your husband just had to make a comment about his methods.

“It was totally the pillow thing, wasn’t it? I told you it works.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed even harder. Last time the two of you intentionally tried for a baby, Daryl made you lie on the bed with your hips propped up for an hour afterward. It was something that Merle had told him about when they were younger, and he was convinced it would make it stick. You had gotten pregnant though, so maybe he was right. Deciding to give him that, you nodded and brushed his hair from his face.

“Yeah, baby. You, your magic dick, and the “pillow method” got me pregnant.”

“Watch yourself. You’re mockin’ greatness, darlin’.”

Seeing Daryl all relaxed and playful like this would never fail to feel rewarding. You silenced his joking with a deep kiss, and he instantly melted into it. Your husband’s arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer. He couldn’t stop smiling, so your lips would momentarily unlock. Your hands were tangled in his hair, and you pulled back to take a breath. He’d never admit it, but you could see the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and the way he blinked a bit too quickly. In true Dixon fashion, he brushed off the way he’d gotten choked up.

“This bathroom is kinda dusty. Someone’s oughta fix that.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s just the dust.”

Daryl wiped at his face and distracted you from his emotional display by redirecting your attention to the pregnancy test sitting on the counter.

“So, I guess we should start makin’ some plans, huh? Like, how we’re gonna tell Judith and RJ. They’re gonna be real excited.”

“Very true. Let’s discuss this in bed.”

First trimester fatigue was already kicking your ass. Daryl wasted no time picking you up and carrying you back into the bedroom. If you thought that he was protective before, you were in for a whole new level. Once the two of you were settled, the planning could begin.

Taglist: @vngelisse @dixondisease @angelwings-crossbowstrings @idkwthgoitmww @smuttfuelled @glennseyeball @tvduxveil @death-in-a-tar0t-card @spookysturnz @nichemint @asparagus-antics @xanaxiii @hail-yourselves @viviandarkbloom11 @softcherryvanilla @thatonewriterchick @dixons-wifey @chronic-fangirl-222 @sunkissedandseraphic @buffydixon @electroniczombieprince @kenchewwarriors @local-airhead @zencherob @wallflowerwrites @daryldixonswoman @holdmytesseract @tinytownn @mickgallavich @shtgshdrnit

Now, this was the confirmation that you’d been waiting for. You were pregnant. Just as fast as the excitement had hit, you were flooded with anxiety. How the hell were you supposed to raise a child? What if this changed your relationship with your husband? While you silently panicked, Daryl made his way into the bathroom. He’d been on patrol, and you’d taken the test on your own because you’d expected it to be negative.

Caught off guard by your crying, Daryl rushed over to you and cupped your face in his rough hands. He assumed that you’d gotten a negative result again, and he immediately began reassuring you. His voice was soft in a way that it only got around you.

“Oh, honey. It’s okay. We weren’t even tryin’.”

You could tell that he’d misinterpreted the situation, and you quickly shook your head. Leaning into his touch, you laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his palm.

“Daryl, it’s positive. That’s why I’m crying.”

Momentarily in shock, Daryl froze and didn’t say anything. The man looked like a deer in headlights, and it took all your strength to not erupt into another fit of giggles. You leaned forward and kissed the underside of his jaw, which was comically hanging open. Your smile widened and you teased him lightly.

“Are you gonna say anythin’, my love? Or are you just gonna stare?”

“I just-. Holy shit, sweetheart. You’re really pregnant?”

“Yes, Daryl. I’m really pregnant. It worked.”

Having collected himself, Daryl nodded and felt a little cocky. He’d finally succeeded in getting you pregnant. He was going to be a father. The idea was simultaneously terrifying and beyond exciting. Your husband just had to make a comment about his methods.

“It was totally the pillow thing, wasn’t it? I told you it works.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed even harder. Last time the two of you intentionally tried for a baby, Daryl made you lie on the bed with your hips propped up for an hour afterward. It was something that Merle had told him about when they were younger, and he was convinced it would make it stick. You had gotten pregnant though, so maybe he was right. Deciding to give him that, you nodded and brushed his hair from his face.

“Yeah, baby. You, your magic dick, and the “pillow method” got me pregnant.”

“Watch yourself. You’re mockin’ greatness, darlin’.”

Seeing Daryl all relaxed and playful like this would never fail to feel rewarding. You silenced his joking with a deep kiss, and he instantly melted into it. Your husband’s arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer. He couldn’t stop smiling, so your lips would momentarily unlock. Your hands were tangled in his hair, and you pulled back to take a breath. He’d never admit it, but you could see the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and the way he blinked a bit too quickly. In true Dixon fashion, he brushed off the way he’d gotten choked up.

“This bathroom is kinda dusty. Someone’s oughta fix that.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s just the dust.”

Daryl wiped at his face and distracted you from his emotional display by redirecting your attention to the pregnancy test sitting on the counter.

“So, I guess we should start makin’ some plans, huh? Like, how we’re gonna tell Judith and RJ. They’re gonna be real excited.”

“Very true. Let’s discuss this in bed.”

First trimester fatigue was already kicking your ass. Daryl wasted no time picking you up and carrying you back into the bedroom. If you thought that he was protective before, you were in for a whole new level. Once the two of you were settled, the planning could begin.

Taglist: @vngelisse @dixondisease @angelwings-crossbowstrings @idkwthgoitmww @smuttfuelled @glennseyeball @tvduxveil @death-in-a-tar0t-card @spookysturnz @nichemint @asparagus-antics @xanaxiii @hail-yourselves @viviandarkbloom11 @softcherryvanilla @thatonewriterchick @dixons-wifey @chronic-fangirl-222 @sunkissedandseraphic @buffydixon @electroniczombieprince @kenchewwarriors @local-airhead @zencherob @wallflowerwrites @daryldixonswoman @holdmytesseract @tinytownn @mickgallavich @shtgshdrnit

That day on the thick leafed forest floor, Andrea had a choice to make. Let the apocalypse claim her as another victim, another name uttered in hushed tones by peers, or champion above it, continuing to last just another day at a time.

Unfortunately, this walker had caught her in a desperate situation, having crawled and scratched its way into her vicinity, biting and grappling her into submission. She kicked her legs frantically, pushing with all of her might into the gory chest of her foe, trying to defeat it and live.

Just as hope ran at its lowest, with Andrea’s arms rapidly tiring and slowing down, she heard the sharp ringing of a sword being drawn, the adrenaline fueled daze she was in made it hard to understand what was going on at first, the piercing sound of the walker's skull being the next thing she could recognize. 

Looking up into the face of her savior as the walker’s grisly head dropped from view, all she could see was a hooded figure, shrouded in intimidation, and she began to cry. 

Crying in relief and fear, Andrea looked behind the ominous figure to see two walkers behind them, their only action to stand there— armless and jawless, and undead. She brought her hand up to her face, terrified by the strange circumstance, and cried more. The stranger reached their hand out, pulling Andrea onto her feet and back into reality. 

“Are you alright? Are you bit?” the stranger inquires. Andrea realized at once that she was a woman, a woman out there all on her own just as she was, only the woman hadn't let the world get to her, she seemed to have conquered it. 

Andrea staggers then takes the stranger’s hand. “T–Thank you. I’m fine” she utters, slowly standing as she peers at the bloodied walker by her feet.

The stranger doesn't reply, just relays a simple shrug and turns around, with the two walkers she has leashed in tow. 

Andrea scrambles after her, darting her with questions on where she’d come from and if she had seen anyone else in her group. 

The stranger had nothing to say, or rather, didn't like to converse as much as Andrea had hoped.

—

The next day drug on, Andrea doing enough talking for the both of them, as her counterpart remained silent, seemingly hardened by the new cruel world. “So, you got a name?” Andrea finally asks.

“Yea, Michonne”

“Michonne?” 

“That's what I said, Michonne” 

“It's pretty” Andrea replies, beginning to cough as her words come out.

—

For their first days together, Andrea and Michonne slept back to back against skinny Southern trees, attempting to hide in the thicket from the dead lurking about. The walkers Michonne donned had quickly become a burden, and to avoid talking about them, she eliminated them, leaving just the two women left to fend for safety. During this time, Andrea had begun to develop a nasty cold from the unforgiving Winter; paired with dehydration, malnutrition, and exposure, her time was running out as she became weaker. 

From there, their time was spent going from place to place for sleep and supplies, Michonne pulling Andrea along, for reasons Andrea had no clue. They did not know each other, and barely had they spoken in actual conversation, but still Michonne protected Andrea and worked tirelessly to find medicine for her illness. 

— 

After the days stretched on into eternity, as it felt for Andrea, or 2 full weeks for Michonne, hope was dying for the two women. With Michonne growing weary from protecting Andrea, and Andrea growing sicker, they wished for a miracle. 

The day was cold and dry, the light that shone onto the Earth was blue and unforgiving, only progressing the effects on the two. After a long day of scavenging, it was time for Michonne to scope out a place to sleep for the night. Shuffling through the forest in tow, Andrea could feel herself growing weaker, more of a burden to her counterpart. “I can't do it anymore” she cried, Michonne’s head whipped around to see Andrea fall to her knees behind her. “You have to leave me or something. I’m holding you back” she continues. Michonne looked at Andrea in pity, shook her head, and began walking closer to where the defeated woman sat. As she did this, a large house came into view behind Andrea’s head. It was a true beacon of hope that had become glaringly clear for Michonne, growing grateful as a smile spread across her face. And as she smiled, she began to laugh. “What is so damn funny?” Andrea asked weakly, and slightly annoyed. “Back there” Michonne points, almost beaming with joy at her discovery. Andrea looks behind herself at the house and the setting sun beyond it, rapidly sobering up to reality, and thus, rising to her feet slowly. “Well what are we waiting for?” she asks.

Wrapping her arms around a willing Michonne, Andrea slowly attempts to inch toward the house with help, occasionally collapsing and crying some more as they near their solace. 

The outside of the home was clearly dilapidated as ever, the shutters and siding weathered from half a year of neglect. The grass surrounding the place was overgrown and spiky, poking the pair ceaselessly as they took a sweeping look around. “I don't hear anything” Andrea blurts, breaking the silence and looking up at Michonne. “Thats good. It might mean it's safe” Michonne replies, looking at Andrea with a tender look, finding that she has grown quite fond of the blonde. Despite her constant chatter and general neediness due to her illness, Michonne couldn't imagine doing it alone ever again, and she wasn't going to let Andrea succumb any time soon. 

The front steps of the house creak with every step they ascend, causing the two to cower in sync with one another, glancing at the other with occasional looks of worry. Breathing heavy and sweating, Andrea sits on the step at the very top of the stairs. “You should probably sweep it without me. I couldn't drag you back anymore Michonne” she huffs. Michonne pauses momentarily, taking a look at Andrea. Her eyes scan the sickly woman, almost choking up with concern, then she replies, “Just come inside and I’ll do the rest”.

Michonne reaches for the doorknob of the front door, closing her eyes in prayer that it would open. To her dismay, the doorknob stays stationary, not budging at all. “Shit!” she groans, taking a frustrated step back and kicking the door, displaying more emotion than she has the entire time she’d been with Andrea. Andrea’s ears perk up, looking in Michonne’s direction astonished. They make quick eye contact before Michonne shifts her eyes away, looking ahead to the next solution. She examines the windows nearby, fortunately finding one slightly ajar just off to the left of the front door. “I think I can fit through it” she remarks, as she starts to try to jimmy it open just enough to fit herself through. “I’m just gonna go in and open it from the inside, okay?” Michonne relays to Andrea, looking at her ill counterpart and sighing before lifting a leg up and putting it inside of the open window. Andrea just nods in acknowledgment, too weak to reply.

Michonne brings her other leg over the window’s ledge with ease, slyly slipping into the house, hoping to dodge any detection. Popping her head up with a quiet grunt, she is relieved to find that the house seems clear, not a single noise within the entire property. Upon this realization she still makes a quick sweep around the ground floor, katana in hand, senses completely tuned to her surroundings. Her breath hardly wavers as this has become second nature for her, scouting differing places for Andrea and herself. 

Once she deems everything acceptable, she unlocks the door and opens it wide to find Andrea fallen asleep on the front step.

Michonne walks toward Andrea, nudging her softly on her shoulder with her hand. “Hey. It’s all clear” she almost whispers, loud enough for Andrea to lift her head up sleepily and rub her eyes, looking up at her protector. “Alright then” she groans, lifting herself off of the stoop, following Michonne into the house. 

Luckily the place was nicely furnished and seemingly untouched by the elements and other scavengers, with a large couch sat to the left of the front door, allowing Andrea free reign to slump herself down and finally rest.

Flinging herself onto the couch with a satisfied groan, Andrea gets comfortable enough to fall asleep, and as the setting sun cascades onto her face, Michonne gazes at her, sitting herself across the room in a large recliner. 

As Andrea slept, Michonne’s heart was hit with pangs of sympathy for her traveling partner, not fully comprehending why she felt this way toward her, especially with such intensities she wasn’t familiar with yet. 

The disappearing sunlight danced on Andrea’s soft skin, and the occasional flutter of her eyelids or simple sleep-filled murmur set Michonne’s heart alight. The sun eventually dipped beneath the trees enough so that the house was filled entirely with darkness, leaving the pair alone, lying in the living room to sleep. Or in Michonne’s case, to stare out the large window just parallel to where she sat. The countryside was so dark, Michonne couldn’t see past the porch, with just the stars above to provide some semblance of illumination into the beyond. The thoughts that crept in with this realization tied large knots in Michonne’s stomach. The thought of the house being taken by walkers, or worse, other people, frightened her to her core. She shot up out of her recliner, as if she had just come up with a master plan to save the day, but in that dark living room, she just stood, unable to cope with the concept of being helpless. She sighed, and turned toward a sleeping Andrea, who for once looked kind of peaceful. Michonne’s gaze lingered on her, scanning her face and body in the darkness, praying to god that the new day brings solutions to their problems. 

The night rolled away into morning just as quickly as it came, and Michonne had hardly slept a wink. Andrea on the other hand, opened her eyes with the first sign of light, blinking away her sleep as her brain slowly gained functionality. Michonne came into view as the first thing she laid eyes on that morning, surprised to find that she was already looking at her. Michonne’s actions stuttered for a moment before jolting her eyes away and standing. “I was thinking of looking through the house today, see if anything’s worth taking” she declared, looking back at Andrea once more. “Can I help?” Andrea responds with a yawn. “You’re sick, I’m gonna do it myself” Michonne replies in a huff, as if she can’t believe Andrea would ask to do that. “Seriously, I can do it. Sleep really helped” Andrea pleads back, standing up to show Michonne that she has the required strength. “Fine” Michonne retorts, beginning to walk up the stairs to the second story of the home, still uncharted territory for the two. Andrea scrambles up to follow her, stopping at the top of the stairs as Michonne suddenly halts. Slowly, Michonne turns around, arm swung over her shoulder to grasp the end of her blade. “I hear something in there” she says as she points with her other hand to the room at the end of the hall, blocked by a large bookcase as muffled thumps ring out from the other side. She pauses for a second and takes a deep breath. “Okay, I’m gonna take that one, and you can take the one next to it” she directs to Andrea. “Are you kidding? I’m gonna help you” Andrea spits back determined. 

Michonne wants to yell. She wants to tell Andrea that she is only doing this to protect her, that she wouldn’t be the same if something happened to her—but all that comes out is an exasperated groan as she rolls her eyes and replies “Fine. But stay close to me”

The pair creep down the dark hall in sync, footsteps shuffling as quiet as possible until Michonne abruptly stops in front of the bookcase. “Okay. I’m gonna need your help moving this, are you up for it?” she asks with an exhale. Andrea nods nervously, “Yeah, of course.”

Michonne grabs the bookcase by its side while Andrea aids her in shimmying it sideways so the two can gain access to the doorway. Michonne looks back at Andrea momentarily, giving her a subtle nod as she reaches for the doorknob, quickly unsheathing her sword with her other hand, displaying it in front of her in anticipation. Andrea waits behind her, preparing herself with her gun as well.

Michonne attempts to crack the door open slowly, keeping her sword keenly in front of her as she tries to creep inside toward her apparent foe. 

Before she has the chance to react, a pair of bloodied decaying hands suddenly reach out toward her face, flinging the door wide open. 

Yelping in fear, Andrea quickly adjusts the grip on her gun, closing one eye and squinting while she aims for the walker’s head, just behind Michonne’s. Unfortunately, before she can pull the trigger, she begins hacking and coughing uncontrollably, losing her ability to breathe or be of any sort of help to her friend. 

Michonne grunts as the walker grips both of her shoulders, holding her in place as her sword drops to the floor. “Shit!” she yells, shoving the walker backwards with her now free hands. The walker scrambles back until falling onto the ground, spewing grotesquely garbled sounds as it reaches out toward her. “God—” Michonne cries out as she picks her sword up and slams it down onto the walker's head. “ —Damn it!” 

Her breaths are heavy with residual adrenaline as she goes to sit on the untouched bed, dropping her sword onto the floor. 

Looking at the dead body next to her feet, she puts her head in her hands and begins to cry. Heavy tears stream down her fingers to her arms and then the floor, small thuds and muffled sobs just loud enough for Andrea to hear as she looks up and starts to recover from her fit. She slowly walks over to Michonne and takes a seat next to her. “I’m so sorry” she whispers, putting her hand on Michonne’s thigh. “I said I was well enough, and really I was—I mean I thought I was…” Andrea pleads further, tears welling up in her eyes “...I mean I got so scared a–and you could've got hurt and—” she continues, until she is suddenly interrupted by a pair of lips clinging to her own, realizing quickly that they are Michonne’s. 

Michonne pulls away just as quickly as her lips landed on Andrea’s, looking away embarrassed. “I–” Andrea stutters for a moment, contemplating her next move. Before she can reply or act, Michonne stands up, staying completely silent as she begins to rummage through the bedside tables and dresser drawers. 

Andrea hesitates before following suit, awkwardly walking to the other side of the bed to look in the opposite drawers, to which she gasps when her eyes land on a bottle of prescription antibiotics. “Oh my god” she gasps, now clutching the orange bottle in her hand to show her counterpart. Michonne smiles as she looks over at her, holding the medicine with a new hopeful demeanor. “We can stay here for a while–until you’re better” Michonne replies, heading into the hallway to the other bedroom in search of more supplies, leaving Andrea alone. 

Andrea sits on the bed, looking down at the bottle in her hand. Twisting the lid, she opens it up, looking at the pills inside. A deep exhale leaves her mouth, shoulders rising and falling in relief. 

Interrupting her introspection, Michonne pops back into the bedroom, holding up a bottle of water to show Andrea, shaking it playfully with a smile before tossing it over to her. Andrea just smiles in return, catching the bottle with her free hand before popping two of the pills into her mouth. 

—

Days pass. Enough time had elapsed for Andrea to nearly be back to her old self, someone Michonne hadn’t met yet. 

The two spent the daytime scavenging the surrounding area near the house; armed with just Michonne’s sword, an old handgun, and a handful of bullets that Andrea found in the house, they were still sorely ill equipped to the imminent danger around them. Nonetheless, they worked exceedingly hard during the day and slept in shifts at night, Michonne always taking the first shift. The night was always eerily quiet, the darkness outside of the large window in the living room taunting Michonne, stripping her of any feelings of safety. Most of her focus would be on Andrea anyhow, occasionally pausing her contemplation to peer at the sleeping woman, feeling her adoration grow deeper with each passing night, hoping she felt the same. Despite their awkward kiss, the two worked together as though it never even happened, which worried Michonne deeply. So there she sat, first up every single night, alone with her thoughts until around 2am, when she would shake Andrea awake to signal her turn. 

Andrea would groan and roll over, rubbing her eyes slowly until Michonne came into view in that dark room. The two would simply swap places on the couch, wanting to be near the other despite the ample beds upstairs. 

After their swap in shifts, Andrea would sit in Michonne’s spot, having a turn at her own existentialism as she sat alone. The dark to her meant something different, a looming reminder of all she had lost thus far, and the new presence of someone she couldn’t bear to lose along with everything else. Looking at her sleeping companion, she pondered how different her life would be if she hadn’t met her, or if she would even have a life at all… 

She shoos away the thought each time it pollutes her mind, slamming her eyes shut and shaking her head, knowing she is much stronger than that scared girl in the woods that day.

—

“Psst” Andrea whispers, shaking Michonne awake. 

Michonne turns over slowly before rolling her eyes and looking away, bringing her hands up to cover her face. 

“I’m sleeping like shit” she whines through her hands as she turns back to plant her head into the couch cushion. 

“Speak for yourself, I sleep great here” Andrea retorts, smirking. “And you know… there's always the beds upstairs if you're tired of me” she adds playfully. 

Michonne peeks through her fingers momentarily, a large smile spreading across her face as she watches Andrea slip her boots on. Andrea looks back at her, smiling in response before patting her twice on the thigh and standing up. 

Andrea stands with her hands on her hips as she stares out the large living room window, watching the morning sun rise and meet with the edge of the horizon, while Michonne slowly makes her way off of the couch, heading into the kitchen to scrounge up breakfast for the two. 

“We shouldn't have wasted all that time yesterday. Now all we have to eat is this” Michonne relays to Andrea, displaying a can of green beans in her hand and holding in a laugh. “No more green beans please” Andrea jokingly complains, throwing herself onto the couch. “Well, let's just go see what we can find then” Michonne replies, waving her hand for Andrea to follow her.

—

The two eventually make their way out of the house, equipped with just their personal weapons as they continue to explore further around the large wooded area. 

“You know that it was your idea to board up the windows in the first place” Andrea teases Michonne, breaking the silence. 

“I know,” Michonne shrugs. “I just wish it didn't take our whole day yesterday. And we didn't even get around to the main one” 

“What is your deal with that window anyway?” Andrea replies playfully. 

“I feel like it mocks me” Michonne shrugs, kicking a rock on the ground. 

Andrea lets out a laugh in disbelief. “Mocks you?”

Michonne continues walking, refraining from bringing her eyes up to meet Andrea’s. Andrea brushes off the encounter, but she knows that the window makes Michonne feel a certain way, for reasons she couldn't yet understand. 

“Oh shit, look” Andrea gasps, stopping in her tracks to point toward a widening trail just a few hundred yards ahead of the two. 

From what they could see from afar, the trail widens out into a paved road. 

“How have we not seen this yet?” Andrea asks, astonished and excited. Michonne just smiles and starts to walk a bit quicker than before, eager to see what the opening road holds. 

As they near closer, they see even clearer that the road is stationed at the end of a small town. 

The houses in the nearby neighborhood grow larger as Andrea and Michonne roam further into it, with the once high brow locale completely diminished, as if everyone simply disappeared in the night. A shudder crawls up Michonne’s spine at the sight. 

There are scattered groups of walkers all around the place, groaning as they wander aimlessly through the streets. Quickly, Michonne realizes that they have to get inside as soon as possible. “Lets look in one of these” she declares, Andrea following in tow. 

The two make their way up to one of the deserted homes, each creak of the front porch steps making them grit their teeth and flinch in expectancy.

The porch had been more worn than they thought, because without looking, Michonne steps right onto a weak spot on the wood, prompting her foot to drop inside, trapping her against her will. Her eyes grow large and frantic at the loud noise of the wood cracking as she falls, and as she looks up, her panic grows wilder when she witnesses a small group of walkers pivot their direction toward where she is. 

Andrea doesn’t deign to hesitate as she brings her pistol up and starts to fire shots right at the cluster of dead. Their bodies hit the floor with thick thuds and splashes of flowing blood, and Andrea doesn’t blink; she shoots the shuffling creatures with a tact that is almost second nature. 

All Michonne can do is watch from her adhered position, mouth fallen open in awe, unaware that Andrea knew how to handle herself so well. 

After the group had been eliminated, three more batches came to take their place, all mindlessly drawn to the sound; Andrea quickly brings a nervous hand down and grabs Michonne by hers to pull her out of the broken floor. 

Luckily, the front door to the house was unlocked, as if whomever lived there prior had left in a hurry, leaving the two women to rush inside in a huff. 

Michonne paces around the foyer with her hands on her head. “How many bullets do you have left?” 

“Two.” Andrea replies defeatedly.

“Fuck!” Michonne curses as she starts to pace faster than before. 

After a short period of panicked brainstorming, she comes up with an idea. “Lets barricade this door and get upstairs. Now.” 

The two rush out of the foyer to grab a set of velvet couches out of the ornately decorated living room nearby. Conveniently, they didn’t have to go far, the living room being just up the hall a ways from the front door. 

Everything inside is covered with a thick layer of dust despite the obvious grandeur of the home, only adding to the intense discombobulation Andrea and Michonne feel. Luckily they had each gained a lot of strength in their time together; with only having the other to rely on, they adapted quickly in their dismal circumstance. 

Once the door is covered, they rush up the once lavish spiral staircase near the back of the living room, taking them to the second floor. The loud grumbles and scratching from the undead just below them contrast distinctly with the eerie quiet in the house as they make their way down the dark hallway lined with vacant family photos. 

They eventually find themselves in one of the many regal bedrooms on the floor, shutting the door behind them and collapsing onto the bed.

They lie there in silence for a while, keenly listening to the creatures under them eventually grow bored and desert their position, leaving them alone at last.

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” Michonne finally breaks the silence to inquire curiously, rolling onto her side to look at her counterpart and now rescuer.

Andrea looks at Michonne and smiles. Wordlessly she searches Michonne’s face for her inclination to twitch when she’s nervous. Unmoved, Michonne stares back, licking her lips as she looks into Andrea’s eyes, feeling their faces grow closer to one another. 

Before they meet, Michonne pulls away again. 

“So?” she asks sheepishly, waiting for Andrea to reply. 

Andrea blushes at the severance of the growing intensity between them, disappearing with one simple word from Michonne’s lips. “O–oh, this guy named Shane. He was with my old group– y’know, from the beginning.” Andrea replies soberly. “I got separated from him and the rest, but I’ve told you this” Andrea adds. 

“Were you guys… Together?” Michonne asks awkwardly, bringing her head down onto the bed to look at the ceiling. 

Andrea’s face flushes red again. “Together? No. Definitely not” she replies. “We fooled around sure—but he was definitely not the relationship type. He was pretty preoccupied with some other fucked up shit in our group” 

“Oh, I see” Michonne replies monotonously. 

“But I mean, I have always leaned more to the other side” Andrea relays nervously to Michonne, feeling the words leave her mouth before she could think. 

Michonne rolls back over and props herself onto her arm after hearing this, beginning to leer at Andrea, growing increasingly nervous from her confession. 

Michonne raises an eyebrow, “You mean, women?” she asks. 

“Yeah… I guess so. I’ve never really had a chance to explore that more though y’know? All this shit happened just as life was really starting for me” Andrea opens up more. 

Michonne’s stare lingers longer on Andrea, feeling herself start to get choked up on nerves, and trying not to let it show. Without replying, she places a hand on Andrea’s thigh, looking her in the eye again for reassurance. Andrea nods softly as Michonne slides her hand up the curves of Andrea’s body, feeling her shudder beneath her touch as she nears her neck. Slowly, she moves her hair from her shoulder, leaving her neck bare, and leans in to kiss it. A soft moan leaves Andrea’s mouth at the contact, feeling the tender sensation spring down her body and back up again, leaving her panting. 

As Michonne pulls her head away from Andrea’s neck, she looks at her shocked expression for a second until noticing the setting sunlight leaking into the room from beyond the heavily draped curtains lining the windows. 

“We gotta get back” Michonne imparts to Andrea meekly.

“Are you sure we have to?” Andrea whines, throwing her head back onto the plush bedding. “Maybe this can be like a vacation for us” she adds, almost giggling.

“I don’t know… Shouldn’t we get back to the house?” Michonne replies worriedly, looking toward the windows again.

“C’mon. You have taken such good care of me these past weeks. Let me take care of you now” Andrea purrs, bringing herself up to straddle Michonne. 

Michonne stutters, but only a quiet gasp comes out as she feels the heaven of Andrea’s lips on hers once more.

Naturally she kisses back, feeling Andrea begin grinding against her and sinfully giving in to the growing friction where their jeans meet. 

They part just momentarily and smile against the other, teeth touching as their cheeks meet from the proximity of their faces. It’s almost laughable, how long they had waited for the other to finally lapse, and how good it felt to lower every inhibition that had been built since the beginning of it all. 

Michonne sits up and rolls onto Andrea in one motion, pulling her tousled hair to the side and revealing her smooth neck once more. As if unable to resist, Michonne brings her mouth to it, sucking and licking it gently as she brings her mouth lower down Andrea’s body, pulling her shirt up in the meanwhile. 

Still, she treats Andrea as if she is made of porcelain, ensuring each kiss and touch is as gingerly as the last, carefully trailing down her shirt and to the waistband of her jeans. 

“Mich,” Andrea moans needily.

“Hm?” Michonne perks up as she stations herself between Andrea’s legs at last and kisses her just below her belly button in satisfaction. She pretends as if hearing her name from Andrea’s lips doesn’t drive her just as crazy as it did the first time she said it. 

“I just wanted to say your name baby” Andrea whines.

Michonne aches as the words fill her ears. The praise and attention dizzies her, filling her head with the salacious ideas of all the things she’s going to do to Andrea at last. 

“Keep going please” she continues.

Michonne eagerly complies and unbuttons Andrea’s jeans, ensuring to kiss her stomach tentatively with each step. “You’re so beautiful” Michonne smiles, kissing Andrea through the fabric of her panties, causing her to sink further into the bed in pleasure. 

As slowly as she can, Michonne peels them off, unhurriedly slipping them down off her legs, and finally off of her feet. 

Andrea looks down at Michonne, pleased at the excited look painted all over her face as she licks her lips and brings her mouth to meet with her soaking sex. 

Andrea moans gratuitously as Michonne explores her core. Each lick sends her further into ecstacy, grasping at the opulent bedspread as Michonne starts to enter her fingers next. She begins with one, bringing her head up to watch Andrea’s face crinkle as she adjusts and eventually melts with bliss as Michonne seamlessly enters another, bringing them in and out of her slit as she coats them fully. 

Simultaneously, she sucks on Andrea’s clit with fervor, bringing her fingers deep inside of her again and again. 

“God, you’re so wet for me” Michonne hums as her tongue exits her mouth again to slobber over Andrea’s wetness some more. “All for you, Michonne” Andrea moans further. 

Michonne pauses for a moment and brings her head away, stopping to look at Andrea and the new wild look in her eye. She kisses her passionately, laying on top of her and continuing to pump her fingers into her intensely. Softly, she whispers into her ear. “I’d do anything to make you cum.”

A moan escapes Andrea’s lips. “Anything?” she replies seductively.

Michonne eagerly nods in response, her hips jutting forward instinctively. 

Steadily, Andrea sits up onto her hands, kissing Michonne’s lips as their heads come up to meet. “Lets take these off then” Andrea teases, pulling at the waistband of Michonne’s pants. 

Once her bottoms are off, Andrea lays Michonne onto the bed, deliberately sliding her hips over the length of her body until she is hovering over her face. She looks down at Michonne’s eager face and pets her cheek before slowly slipping her thumb over her chin and into her mouth. Michonne bewitchingly hollows her cheeks out, sucking on Andrea’s thumb in exposed want, unbreaking the eye contact between them. 

Andrea removes her thumb sultrily, turning herself over Michonne so that her body is flipped, leaving her ass parallel to Michonne’s face. Quickly, Michonne realizes what is happening and brings her mouth back up to Andrea’s wetness from behind. Andrea leans forward and nips at Michonne’s inner thighs, which are already spread in anticipation, each touch making her quiver. A sudden jolt of titillation makes her head spin, feeling Andrea’s mouth meet her desperate core. 

“O—oh fuck” Michonne groans as she tries not to lose focus on her own task. However, after a few short moments of concentration, she completely unfurls, throwing her head back and grabbing a handful of Andrea’s thigh as she feels her abs contract violently in a rapture of sensation, coursing from her clit to the tips of her fingers. Andrea smiles as Michonne’s back arches too, prying her off of the bed as she groans and squirms under Andrea’s unrelenting mouth and body. Her essence paints Andrea’s face, free flowing juices lining the bedding beneath them and embarrassment erupting from Michonne’s nerves immediately follows. “Oh shit I’m so sorry” she spews in horror, trying to catch her breath. “That has never happened before—” she continues, until Andrea comes up off of her and kisses her breathlessly. “That was so hot Mich. What are you talking about?” Andrea replies reassuredly, now covering Michonne’s chest and neck with kisses. 

Michonne quickly forgets about everything else when she remembers that she must return the favor. “Stop distracting me” Michonne laughs, pushing Andrea back onto the bed. 

Slowly she enters her digits back inside of Andrea, this time adding a third. Andrea’s eyes grow big at the stimulation until slamming shut as she feels the familiar warmth of Michonne’s mouth cover her sweet spot graciously. 

“God” Andrea groans, rolling her eyes and putting her hands atop Michonne’s head, pushing her face further into the wetness covering her inner thighs. 

She grinds her hips against Michonne’s face in a daze, leading Michonne to grasp onto each of her thighs in an attempt to hold her in place. Without letting up, Andrea brings herself further up, sliding her slick all over Michonne’s face, utilizing Michonne’s nose and tongue in unison. Michonne grunts to keep up and try not to lose her breath, but admittedly, she could stay this way forever. 

The two tangle and writhe against the other, so wretchedly entwined that they couldn’t bear to stop. Woefully, their bodies have other plans, with Andrea reaching her personal high sooner than she had hoped, slamming Michonne’s head between her thighs as each segment of her orgasm pulses through her into Michonne’s mouth. 

Michonne departs her mouth from Andrea’s sex after ridding her of all residual pleasure to be sought, licking her lips in a stupor as she comes back up to kiss Andrea up and down her sweating body. “I think I could go again” Andrea smiles, kissing Michonne on the shoulder as they lie against each other. 

—

The night disappears into day, the lovers using half of the darkness to continuously explore one another, leaving them exhausted and wobbly to sleep naked in each other’s arms for the latter half of the night. 

The sun rises secretly as the pair sleeps; Michonne only realizes the time once she wakes up fully. “Hey” she groans softly, kissing Andrea on her forehead as her sleeping counterpart comes to. “Mmmfh” Andrea sounds out sleepily, bringing her arms above her head to stretch before pulling Michonne even further into her grasp. “We gotta get back baby” Michonne purrs as she is enveloped by Andrea. “Ugh but this is so nice right here” she replies as she breathes Michonne in. “I know, but I’m worried about the house” Michonne mutters back, letting out a deep exhale. “How about this,” she continues, “...As soon as we get back, I am all yours”

Andrea smiles. “You’re on.”

The pair sleepily slip on their clothes and navigate through the now lit up halls of the extravagant home until they finally exit, relieved to find a majority of the walkers present the day prior had scattered throughout the night. 

Giddy and infatuated, they traipse through the wooded thicket together, occasionally swatting the other on the ass in some playful variation of continued foreplay, laughing, unknowing of the horrors approaching against the rising sun on the horizon. The house. 

Quickly the house comes into view, its previous stance as a beacon of hope for the two becomes quickly diminished when they see that the large eastward window is entirely shattered. ‘What the fuck?” Michonne yells, beginning to draw her sword and run toward the property until she feels Andrea pull her back. “It’s not worth it,” she warns. ‘Whatever it is— Walkers, people, it’s not worth it Michonne.”

Michonne feels torn; her realization that her dreaded fears are coming true paired with the apparent budding romance between her and Andrea rips at her heart. 

She wants to listen to her heart—but it’s simply safer to listen to her head. 

being as dumb as you are leads to many dangerous situations. it’s not your fault—you couldn’t help being stupid. life was shopping, salons, boys, parties. for you, anyway.

for daryl, life was fear, anger, pain, fight, flight, freeze. find your own meal, wait for merle to come back from jail, take care of your drunk father.

that’s why this was so messy. why daryl told himself he hated you, wanted nothing to do with you. but oh god, he wanted somethin’ to do with you. to do to you. he’d always tried to be better than his roots, tried to be better than his pain. you made it impossible.

so… maybe he’d just ignore the fact that he’d come up behind you. that he’d groped your ass while he told you your car was fucked. you didn’t know any better, all the terminology went over your head.

daryl wiped his morality clean when he had you. hands all over you, insisting your car needed to be scrapped. you tried to ask why, how it could’ve happened.

“cause you’re a dumb fuckin’ whore who can’t take care of a rock, let alone a machine,” daryl growled in your ear.

he bent you over your own car, in the garage, where his boss could walk in at any moment. lifted your skirt, spanked your plump ass. you squealed, whined about not having money for a new car.

“you think i give a shit?” daryl barked. “turn around. suck my dick, maybe i’ll give ya a discount, bitch.”

you did, because of course you would. he could tell by the way you mouthed his bulge that you fucking loved cock. he didn’t praise you for doing a good job—he didn’t give you the satisfaction. he smacked your cheek with his dick, before fucking your throat without mercy. your poor makeup was ruined in minutes, and he tugged your pigtails hard enough to wreck them, using them as momentum to stretch that pretty mouth wider.

“stupid slut,” daryl snarled like a rabid dog, teeth clenched, eyes dark. “take it. whore. you love it, don’tcha? fuckin’ idiot. take my cock, bitch.”

it was sick and twisted and daryl would hate himself for it later, but right now, his balls tensed listening to your gagging and coughing.

when he filled your throat with cum, letting it dribble down your chin, he thought he’d be done. let you go.

nah. he had one more.

“fuckin’ heaven sent, doll,” he chuckled, picking you up by the hair and forcing you back over the hood of your car. “god made you ripe fer the pickin’, ain’t he? you like that? bein’ a dumb fuckin’ whore?”

you gurgled, a small whimper coming out. but daryl didn’t care if you said no. didn’t care if you said anything at all. he shoved your panties to the side and smacked your puffy cunt. he could tell you liked it, at least a little, what with how soaked you were for him.

“you tight, er no?” daryl scoffed. “bet you let everybody in here. hope you got room for another.”

without ceremony, daryl shoved himself in you. didn’t take more than five minutes, his oversensitive cock pulsing inside you. he groaned, held your head down by the back of your neck, letting your gasps and cries send him over the edge.

“fuck! ah, fuck. gonna fill this cunt. gonna get your dumbass pregnant. ‘n you’ll never fuckin’ hear from me again. gon’ be alone an’ full, like the stupid bitch y’are…”

the words came out, demented and cruel, and immensely untrue. daryl knew it in the back of his mind, but fuck, it made him cum.

he started to cum inside you, but pulled out halfway through, weak spurts landing on your ass. he smacked it again, watching his second load drip down your soft skin.

“fuckin’…. christ,” he huffed, stepping back to admire his work. he nodded, and then pulled his pants back up. “clothes on, doll. can’t let nobody see a hooker in my shop.”