In a world turned to dust, love takes many forms...

Carol must contend with an unusally attentive and possibly jealous Daryl when a newcomer to the camp befriends her. Sequel to 'Roses', rated for language. Complete.

Because some holidays are worth remembering. Warnings for mild Valentine's fluff and a few 2x08 spoilers. Updated with Daryl's POV in chapter 2.

She didn't understand. She wasn't dead, she was certain. Because there was no way she could feel this much pain, this much loss, if she were anything but alive.

They fitted together like a two piece jigsaw.

She tried to justify it by reminding herself about the bar of ivory soap she'd had her heart set on finding, but the truth was she'd gotten distracted by the angle of his silhouette as he leaned into the curtain. Watching first hand as he arched his hips into the spray and grunted in pleasure...

It wasn't his business before. He didn't like it, but it wasn't his business. Somehow, it was now. Caryl, post 3x11-ish, oneshot?

She was here, she was his, and God but she felt… she felt like home.

A Marine comes across two half-dead men in the middle of the woods and suddenly finds himself in the middle of a war he didn't know was being waged just outside his front door. In the midst of it a tale that contains pretty white river flowers and a lost little girl. Rated for language and perhaps more. Set after the Dixon Brothers tangle with the Governor.

Merle and Carol have been living on their own for some time now, learning to care for each other, learning to be with each other. And this is one burn that Merle isn't ashamed to bare. Marol

"Carol, what's that on your neck?"

A little drabble about how Carol came to be wearing Daryl's coat in the season 3 finale.

When the war with Woodberry comes unannounced in the dead of night it seems as if they are beyond help. Perhaps together, by the light of day, they may just make it through. [Speculative Post 3x13; not finale compliant. Contains some images of violence and character death] *Carol/Daryl*

Carol. He thought bitterly, willing her body to reanimate in death. Of course he didn't want her to turn into one of those…things…he just wanted to see her move. Wanted her to squeeze his shoulder once more in comfort. He wanted her to place a soft kiss atop his forehead, pushing his boundaries with every new touch. He just wanted her to be alive. Caryl fic. please review!

Carol is taken prisoner by the Governor and questioned about where the prison is. But she'll never give up her family. She'll die before she gives up the one she loves. Caryl

Slowly, he started learning their names.

There's too much to say and no words to begin, so she utters the only thing she can and hopes that somehow he understands. And then, she holds out her hand. Set after 3x10, Home. (Caryl)

Tomorrow they would fight. Tomorrow they could die. And she may never get another chance to show him how much he means to her. Post-3x13 Caryl oneshot. Adult-content warning.

One Shot: Daryl prefers the darkness, even when it unsettles him. Set directly after 3x02.

Merle goes on, by himself, to face off the Governor. And all he can remember are moments with Daryl.

Daryl faces the thing that was once his brother. And no matter how much he doesn't want to go on, he knows he has to.

Choices mean so much more in a world where survival hangs by a thread. With the threat of the Governor looming over the prison survivors, Beth makes the choice she must to save her family, while Merle makes the choice he must to save himself. Merle/Beth (or Meth, if you prefer) angst with a bit of smut. Note the rating and don't read if the age gap makes it an issue for you.

Starts the night of and just a little after the "Wanna screw around?" comment. Flashes back to the winter & explains how they got to this point. Ch.3 is a bit M.

It took him longer than he cared to admit to realize he was dead. But even longer for him to come to terms with it. Because the truth is he'd never really bought into all that Mystic River, House on Haunted Hill revenge-type bullshit. He'd never been one to pray or go to church, to believe in such things as heaven and hell. ...He still doesn't to be honest.

She knew the odds, the reality of their situation. She wasn't stupid. But even then it took her a long time to stop looking for them.