✨Various x Reader One-Shots✨

𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚛 | 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚕 𝙶𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 | 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍

For so long, everything was about the limelight. How long could Y/n stay the little star of California? How long could the little girl captivate the masses?

That was gone now. Most of it at least. Here she was, still thinking about the masses, even if they weren't alive anymore. Y/n pondered if she saw more of the dead than the living. But at least now she'd always have her audience. Their stench would ease into her garage every morning, just after the night's hordes. She had found that their smell was just as helpful as it was horrid.

Just as she did every time she left her little workshop, she'd pull the dusty string across the lawn. That same razor would shine across the hung bodies, cutting just a bit more of their rotting bodies loose. And like that, y/n was good to go.

Today was special, like every other full moon. She didn't quite remember if the proper label was Tuesday or not, having given up on tracking time years ago. Even her perfectionist mind couldn't rack up the days that all eventually blurred together. Even her special days, days like this were beginning to feel.. Dull. Sometimes Y/n wondered if she felt any more alive than the bodies string across her yard.

But today was a new day, and maybe she wouldn't completely obliterate her competition today. While her younger pre- Walker days consisted of pageants and dances.. Now Y/n fell into what she always wanted to do. Machinery- oil, puzzles beyond her belief. Something that perfectionist attitude could really better her in. Everything had a piece, a tube- some kind of battered core. She found that direction was special, in a world that seemed rather... Directionless.

The wind cradled her helmet, one she had taken from a tank site years ago. Goggles protected her eyes from the wind, a bandanna protecting her cheeks. A ripped and sewn jacket covered her arms, the scars and burns beneath them too. The forest around her seemed to watch her drive away, them too wondering if this was her last race.

💫

Supplies were running low. That wasn't the only thing either. Maggie's pregnancy had taken a few tumbles, unfamiliar concerning pains around every corner. While some even wondered the morality of it all, I mean what kind of mother would bring a child into a world like this?

That didn't deter Rick. Didn't deter any of the leading group. Glenn didn't even have to plead for their services, because within the hour they were already planning runs.

The soon-to-be father crossed his arms, watching Rick point across a dirty map. "Daryl, Abraham- take the South route. There should be 2 gas stations either way." His finger dragged across the paper, "Carol, Morgan take the east road, aside from the forest there hasn't been a lot discovered." He finally lifted his finger, "Carl and I will take the West road. When we passed through there was a town, unclear if it had been looted or not. We all meet here by tomorrow morning, keep your walkie's by. If you find nothing, set out parameter stakes for the next run." This was by no means the groups first rodeo, so most hurried to grab whatever bows and ammo they needed for the trip.

Rick turned to his son, fixing his hat before grabbing his own bag. "You bring the ax?" He asked, "It's in my bag." Rick smiled, "Good. We can do some target practice before dawn." The boy smiled, just cherishing the idea of it. He'd believe it when he saw it though. He knew his father was trying to cheer him up again, something he'd find Rick attempting a lot throughout the years.

The two waved to Mishone, who was planned to stay guard at the gate while the others ravaged the area. Even before the dead rose Carl would find the forest entrancing. It surrounded the city, homes, lakes. Just like it did now. That was one thing that didn't change. Another, he'd always feel small below the towering bark- no matter his age. He'd find that his world was shrinking by the day.