#daryl dixon priest

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

⋆ Happy Halloween everybody! you know what that means... It's kinktober time! So, gather around my blog as I post daily updates of a new kink with your favorite characters!

Day 1: Daryl Dixon — Rough Sex

Day 2: Steve Rogers — Captain Kink

Day 3: Dean Winchester — Submission

Day 4: Castiel — Corruption

Day 5: Daryl Dixon — Hair Pulling

Day 6: Spencer Reid — Hand Kink

Day 7: Aaron Hotchner — Uniform Kink

Day 8: Emily Prentiss — Teasing

Day 9: Rick & Daryl — Threesome

Day 10: Spencer Reid — Size Kink

Day 11: Maggie Greene — Brat Taming

Day 12: Daryl Dixon — Shotgunning

Day 13: Michonne Hawthorne — Body Worship

Day 14: Bucky Barnes — Overstimulation

Day 15: Dean Winchester — Blood Play

Day 16: Sam Winchester — Throat Fucking

Day 17: Rick Grimes — Sir Kink

Day 18: Daryl Dixon — Sweat Kink

Day 19: Dean Winchester — Food Play

Day 20: Spencer Reid — Strangers

Day 21: Glenn Rhee — Handjob

Day 22: Bucky Barnes — Choking

Day 23: Dean Winchester — Somnophilia

Day 24: Priest!Sam Winchester — Blasphemy

Day 25: Micheal!Dean Winchester — Knife Kink

Day 26: Spencer Reid — Handcuffs

Day 27: Aaron Hotchner — Spanking

Day 28: Penelope Garcia — Aftercare

Day 29: Demon!Dean Winchester — Biting

Day 30: Natasha Romanoff — Femdom

Day 31: Thor Odinson — Dumbification

#✰ ― meau's masterlist ! #♡ ― nsfmeau ! #kinktober 2022 #kinktober 2022 masterlist #plus size reader #x chubby reader #plus size!reader #x plus size reader #daryl dixon x reader #steve rogers x reader #spencer reid x reader #Emily Prentiss x fem!reader #maggie greene x reader #maggie grenne x fem!reader #Michonne Hawthorne x fem!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester x reader #glenn rhee x reader #daryl dixon x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #Spencer Reid x plus size reader #Emily Prentiss x plus size reader #maggie greene x plus size reader #Michonne Hawthorne x plus size reader #micheal!dean winchester #demon!dean #priest!sam winchester #aaron hotchner x reader

[javierpenaispunk]

✨My Man✨

Thank you for the tag @sp00kymulderr 💜

Put four characters who make you yell "MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN"!!

✨ Javier Peña - Narcos

✨ Javi Gutierrez - The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

✨ The Priest - Fleabag

✨ Daryl Dixon - The Walking Dead

Np tags: @singaboutbeingfree @paulmescal-s @ladamedusoif @chronically-ghosted @penvisions Sorry if you've already been tagged (or if you don't want to do this) <3

#tag game #had so much fun doing this #javier peña #javi gutierrez #the priest #daryl dixon

[cultofdixon]

You do what you can

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Grimes’s Sister!Reader • This group desperately needs a home, and you need help. There’s only so much the archer and leader can do • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Excessive Nausea & Vomiting / Malnutrition

Requested by: Anon

NEXT

Hyperemesis Gravidarum, or severe vomitting is what Hershel said. It’s excessive nausea and vomiting that results in being unable to eat and drink because you can’t keep anything down.

Of course I had it.

Finding out I was pregnant in the prison, during the good times was of course bittersweet. Daryl, my partner, was worried about losing me like Lori but reassured that everything would be fine. Then the illness came through and he thought I had it with how intense my morning sickness was.

But Hershel reassured us and well scared us about a lot of the reactions that come with not being able to keep anything down.

“Please, what can I do?”

“Some just have this, Daryl. I’ll keep an eye on her. You gotta help the others”

While Daryl helped get medicine for those suffering the prison illness, he managed to find IV bags of fluids and that helped keep me hydrated when I couldn’t even take a sip of water without my throat burning.

Then well…a lot happened after that

Days have passed and again, a lot has happened. The prison collapsed, the group splitting, Beth’s disappearance, The Claimers,…Terminus, and now the group found themselves in the forest after barley escaping that hell they claimed as a “sanctuary for all” but it wasn’t.

After the small reunion, the group started to walk to…somewhere that wasn’t there. Eventually finding the chapel and the priest that almost lost his life if they didn’t arrive.

Before she even stepped foot into the small chapel, Y/N gripped Daryl’s arm indicating she needed to throw up again and step away to do so. Least she’s trying to inform him instead of disappearing for a few minutes to vomit in the woods. Not a pretty sight or…a pleasant sound.

Rick noticed the two coming in last as Y/N pulls away from Daryl to sit in a pew before ultimately laying down in it. He frowns trying to think of what he could do, she is his sister after all.

“How she doing?” He asks the second the archer approached him after checking on her once more.

“We better have a plan soon” Daryl frowns crossing his arms. “Doubt we’ll run into another hospital but the IV shit helped. Gotta find something like it”

“Or try to get her to drink. Just. Shit, I don’t know what else to do. Lori never had this shit”

The archer was sort of lost in his own mind, trying to plan something out that could help his partner. But every end is a dead one.

“I’m gonna keep watch, holler if?”

“Yeah, go ahead” Rick frowns watching Daryl go back to the pew Y/N was currently laid in, informing her of where he’ll be before stepping out of the chapel and Carol following behind him.

A few hours passed and Y/N jolted awake from an anxious thought only to feel the jacket draped over her which belonged to her brother. She eventually brought herself to sit up and put the jacket on entirely feeling the dryness of her hands, especially after not being able to have nutrients.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Michonne brought herself to sit with Y/N as she instantly rests her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Rick is taking watch and Daryl still isn’t back yet, just thought—-“

“He’s looking for Beth”

“How do you—?”

“Gut feeling…” Y/N frowns bringing her hands onto her small bump, feeling the anxiety bubble up inside her. “Michonne?”

“Yes?”

“…I…I’m afraid of losing my baby” She did her best to keep the tears from coming even if her body fought her against it and worsened her headache by bringing on the tears. “or of them losing—-“

“We will find the help you need. To keep you both alive and well”

But the worse kept coming, and we kept losing.

Bob was the first because of a bite. Then it was Beth at the hospital because of a cop with a trigger finger. Then Tyreese from blood loss because of an amputation caused by a bite. Sasha lost a partner and her brother, Maggie lost the last of her family. The two were on edge, Daryl felt like he failed, and the group was slowly weakening the more they continued on this blind path given the real news about Eugene came out. So no more hope for a cure. It will always be survival for those living through the apocalypse.

Maggie grew extra attached to Y/N given her state and the group can’t take another loss if it happened. Every time Y/N had to throw up or take a breather while the others kept walking, besides Daryl, Maggie was always there glued to her side which included Glenn glued to hers.

“Rick” Maggie called out for him with a bit of venom in her voice as he gave her a concerned look while handing Judith to Carol. “We need a break”

“It’s barely midday, we have to keep walking”

“Y/N can’t keep walking any longer. She needs a break” Maggie frowns pulling him to look directly at Y/N who was struggling to keep herself up even with Daryl’s help.

“Alright…Alright!” Rick nods directing people into the tree line, out of the road, to set up camp for the rest of the day and night.

Abraham took care of checking their surroundings as Sasha retraced their steps making sure they weren’t followed by anything or anyone. Carol got Noah and Glenn to help her set a few trigger lines for those who want to sleep. As much as Daryl wanted to help secure their surroundings, he felt as if he’d leave Y/N, that she’d decline. She’s already doing so but he thought he’d accelerate the process the moment he leaves.

“Can yea try for me?” Daryl frowns giving the last of his water to his partner as she nods, accepting his help with drinking from his canteen. He noticed a bit of a skin reaction on her neck from scratching the dryness as it was the same on her left arm. “Try not to scratch anymore…”

“Hard not to…” Y/N frowns leaning against the tree as Daryl sets his canteen down with his stuff bringing himself to sit against the tree. Gesturing with his eyes for her to lay her head in his lap. “We’ll find something…right, Dar?”

“I promise yea, sunshine” Daryl reassures brushing the hair out of her face watching Maggie approach them draping the blanket Rosita gave her to give Y/N over her body. The poor girl had already fallen asleep after being still long enough. “We’ll find somewhere right?”

“If we have to take it from somebody, then yeah. We’ll find somewhere” Maggie reassures him with a smile but hell, he knew she was anxious about her state.

The night was rough.

While she was exhausted more than the others because of being pregnant and having to be a part of less than 3% of pregnant individuals with hyperemesis gravidarum, she couldn’t control her anxiety jerks that would wake her. Freaking out Daryl every time and him waking resulted in Rick and Maggie waking given they stuck close to the two. Then the almost every hour to vomit. It’s gotten bad that Y/N started to dry heave and that would wake the rest sleeping. But every complain resulted in either her partner glaring at them or her brother snapping.

“My head hurts…” Y/N whispers to herself as the group started walking again the next day, this time she was with Carol while Daryl searched around for anything to have a longer stay in. Away from staying outside.

“Is that it?” Carol’s worry came out of her tone as she brought her arm around Y/N’s waist when she noticed her sway slightly. “You’ve got the last of the water…not like it was enough…we need a miracle or something”

“Kids first…Jude needs it. Carl needs it—-“

“You and your baby do too” Her tone shifted to strict immediately. She remembered how Y/N sacrificed a lot of her things in the past to keep everyone else afloat and she wasn’t about to let her do it again when it comes to her health.

It felt like fate or a foreshadow given after that conversation, everyone surrounded a cluster of water bottles in the middle of the road about an hour later.

“Someone has to test it” Eugene went to grab one and it was immediately smacked out of his hands by Abraham. “What!”

“It could be a trap” Rosita scoffs at him. “You think we’d give a pregnant woman poisoned water”

“Not like I can keep it down” Y/N whispers as she stares at the cluster before flinching to the touch of water. Water?

The storm that Rick expected to come days later, decided to come sooner and thank Mother Nature for that. Few started to empty to bottles and fill it with rain water as it was the next best thing, then those who’ve lost so much took the “peaceful” moment to take it all in.

As Y/N looks up at the rainfall feeling the heat expel her body for a moment and a sudden wave of uncertainty take her. But before she could even be audible about such, her body had enough.

“Y/N!” Maggie yells the second her body hit the floor as Daryl instantly dropped to her aid checking her person for any injury.

But it was just her body shutting down and that thought triggered Daryl.

“I saw a barn a few yards inward. We gotta—-“

Rick didn’t hesitate another moment as he quickly picked up his sister in his arms while Daryl led the way to the temporary shelter he found.

After another rough night and sort of rude morning, Daryl protectively held Y/N close to his person the second she woke around the time this Aaron guy was discovered.

“Hey…hey” Daryl fought back tears watching her wake as she didn’t say anything but rest her head against his chest in a sense of reassurance. “You’re gonna be okay, okay? Please” his voice cracked trying to say more.

“Our community can protect her, your daughter.” Aaron tried to sell this unknown community as he glances to the situation happening behind Rick and directed toward that. “Can save her from dying—-“

Watch your words.

Rick instantly grabbed his collar forcing the man against the nearest wall glaring into his soul. “She ain’t dying and how do I know you wouldn’t kill her in this place?”

“B-Because we won’t! You don’t have to trust us right away b-b-but we have an infirmary. A-A surgeon that knows his stuff”

If his sister wasn’t in this condition, he wouldn’t have give in so easily. Not like he wouldn’t watch this total stranger like a hawk when checking her person.

Which led them to giving about five percent of their trust to this stranger and following him with his partner to Alexandria, the community he talked about. A few residents that helped with the infirmary tried taking Y/N on a gurney but her family was close to killing a few people for trying to touch her without warning. Soon Daryl along with Maggie followed the few that pulled Y/N away on the gurney they brought out after Aaron’s partner Erin radio’d in.

“If you keep glaring, it won’t let me work faster” Peter states, getting the IV into Y/N’s arm after he asked Maggie to help her out of her clothes and into a new change of clothes enough to show some of the skin lesions she had so he could take care of them.

“Don’t do anythin’ without informing” Daryl glares keeping close to Y/N’s bedside on the other side. Peter looks at him with a blank expression, tensing a bit every now and then.

“She’ll stay here until she’s hydrated enough, or least til your group gets placement.” He states hanging the bag after taping the IV on her arm. “Y’all said she’s pregnant?”

For an anxious reason, Daryl gave Maggie a worried expression thinking…yeah…when Peter was simply asking to confirm it or not.

“Yeah, she’s pregnant. Why?” Maggie frowns watching Peter’s every move as he stepped away to one of the storage closets for equipment they have and or get from runs.

“We don’t have an ultrasound machine. Just tests and one of these things I forgot the name of” Peter held a device that could detect the heartbeat of a fetus, as for checking the conditions they’d have to go full old school for that and he’d need to find a book in their library, if they have one on pregnancy. But for now they have this.

Right before Peter even moved the blanket to lift her shirt to put the wand on, Y/N flinched pulling herself away given she woke once more in the middle of all that. Daryl frowns, relieved though, as he brushes back her hair catching her worried expression.

“He’s gonna check on the peanut, Y/N. Just let’em. I won’t let him do anythin’ else” Daryl reassures as Y/N nods slowly letting the man work but kept her eyes on him while he turned the device on and guided the wand to the right spot.

Heartbeat

A surprisingly healthy heartbeat

“That’s good. Strong” Peter states pulling the wand away before fixing the blanket over her and putting the device away. “I’ll come back in an hour or two to give her more fluids. Want me to tell your leader you’ll be in here?” He asks Maggie given the two watched Daryl drop to his knees hugging Y/N tightly her in her laid out state.

“Please.” Maggie gave a small smile letting the man leave before bringing herself to the other side of her bed resting her hand on her leg. “We’ll make this place work. To keep you both safe”

The two held onto one another and Maggie kept an eye on them for Rick before leaving to give them a minute. She kept close to the infirmary in case either of the two needed anything as she watches Rick practically run his way over to her with a worried look.

“She’s going to be okay. They both are” Maggie smiles watching the tension leave Rick’s shoulders for a moment as he instantly went for a hug with his friend.

When they parted, before the retired sheriff went in to check on his sister himself…the remaining Greene stopped him.

“Yeah?”

“We need to make this place work, Rick”

“I know…but—-“

“You can be cautious. We all are gonna be a while…but we all need this to work. For us, your kids, for them. We need this place for us”

“You do what you can for your family, and I’ll always protect mine”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

[celtic-crossbow]

You Get Me Closer to God

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: France

Warnings: Words & Actions that will damn me to hell; Poorly written smut; blasphemy

Summary: Father Daryl wasn’t an ordinary priest. He drew out your curiosity and curiosity killed the cat…but satisfaction brought it back.

A/N: I am going to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200

The smoke stung your eyes a little as it wafted upward from the cigarette hanging between your lips. Your eyes narrowed as you watched the priest arrive with two sisters and a young boy. A strange combination, but not the strangest you had ever seen wander into the walls. 

You had been with this same group of nuns since just after the end of the old world. You had traveled from America just before the turn, backpacking and adventuring with your boyfriend and the friends you shared. Partying, sex, drugs, and copious amounts of alcohol and bad decisions. 

You were the only one left now. 

The sisters had taken you off the street, quite literally. Half dead, beaten, and left for the hungry ones who would eventually stumble upon you. Sister Catherine had ensured your stay, even when you balked against most of their beliefs and practices once you were well enough to attend sermons and lessons. 

Though Sister Catherine still tried to persuade you to join them, they had all but given up, Mother Superior only allowing you to remain because it would be nothing short of a sin to cast you out into the clutches of the sick that wandered in search of flesh. You did your chores and kept your nose clean, well enough. 

You plucked the cigarette from your mouth and crushed it beneath your boot heel, following the sisters and their guests further into the compound by way of the narrow trail in the small garden. 

The sisters carried weapons, which was odd enough, but the priest laden with them, his scrutinizing gaze taking in every inch of the area around him. You knew that look well. Memorizing entrances, exits, weaknesses. 

You fell in behind the group as they entered the makeshift sanctuary, keeping enough distance to not be detected. Something told you (the way he turned his head and angled it, listening) that the priest knew you were there regardless. 

Father Daryl, you learned, observing from one of the pews in the back. The four were passing through, on a mission of which they would not divulge the details. Sister Catherine was content enough with letting it go, leading the group to their quarters for the night. While the sisters and boy bowed their heads with the sign of the cross, Father Daryl did nothing more than observe. Your eyes narrowed, following them as they approached. 

“Ah, this is Y/N. Our resident non-believer.” Sister Catherine gave you a teasing smile as the strangers took you in, no doubt wondering about your outfit of a cut off tank top, leather jacket, and black distressed jeans that disappeared into well worn combat boots. 

“I believe, sister.” You shot back. “I just don’t go about it with a constant stick up my—” Sister Catherine cleared her throat sharply and pinned you down with a look. “Sorry.” You muttered, the grin you wore anything but. Risking a glance at Father Daryl found one corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.

Curiouser and curiouser. 

You stood but remained inside as the group was led away. You didn’t miss Father Daryl sparing you one last glance over his shoulder. 

After Compline, when the sisters had retired to their chambers for the Great Silence, you slipped out your door as you did most nights. A cigarette already hanging from your lips, you walked along the loggia, bringing your lighter up toward your mouth. You never lit the thing, eyes narrowed at the small cloud of smoke billowing up from the terrace below. 

You leaned over the thick banister, spotting Father Daryl easily. He was sitting on the back of one of the stone benches, his boots on the seat. Your first thought was to leave him be. It was late and engaging in conversation during the Great Silence was severely frowned upon. Even guests were asked to participate. 

But Father Daryl wasn’t just a guest. He was a priest. 

You kept your steps light as you descended the stairs and made your way outside. The tip of his cigarette glowed red before diminishing and he held the smoke in a little longer before exhaling. He was savoring it. 

He was flicking the ashes by the time you stood behind him, opening your mouth with snark on the end of your tongue. 

“Ain’t easy to sneak up on me.” He drawled, never turning to face you. 

You straightened, eyes blinking wide. “You’re American.”

“Get that a lot.” He mused in a low voice. Cigarette between his thumb and middle finger, he flicked it to disappear somewhere in the shadows. “Whaddaya want?”

“You’re a priest.” You stated plainly, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Appears so.” The way he grumbled out the remark was unexpected. You crossed the last few steps and climbed into the back of the bench next to him, leaving ample space in between. 

You could feel his eyes on you though he had yet to move. “You’re smoking. Didn’t you take a vow to refrain from voluntary destruction of your body or some shit?”

One corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk as he pointed toward the dark, starry sky. “We got a arrangement.”

“Uh huh. And what about the Great Silence?” You probed further. 

“Th’fuck’s that?” 

To your bewilderment, he didn’t bat an eye at what you initially presumed was a slip of the tongue, however unlikely. You were stunned into silence, mouth agape while continuing to stare at the man with eyes like saucers. When you never found words, he simply shrugged a shoulder and looked back to the stars. 

“S’diff’rent in America.”

You snapped your jaw shut with an audible click of your teeth. Something was definitely off here. You didn’t know much about the man in front of you but he was no priest. He didn’t seem to care much about hiding that fact either. You could sense he was dangerous. Anyone who would need a disguise yet care so little to keep it had to be. Still, you didn’t feel threatened. 

“I see.” You whispered, continuing to study him. He was an attractive man. Older than you, certainly. Your wandering gaze made it to his hand hanging off the end of his knee when you were struck with an idea. One that could benefit him but would definitely benefit you. 

After all, it had been a long, long time. 

“How different?” You asked, scooting close enough that your shoulders were nearly touching. He glanced down at the decreased space between the two of you and then looked at you from under his lashes. 

“Diff’rent. Why?”

“It’s just… we haven’t had a priest here in so long and…” you shifted to angle your knees toward him, giving him your best doe eyes, “would you take my confession, Father Daryl?”

His back went straight, jaw ticking with how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Nah. Don’t think that’s—”

“Please, Father! I don’t know how long I’ve got left in this world. None of us do. I’m so scared that if I don’t confess, I’ll—” You buried your face in your hands, shoulders trembling as small broken sobs escaped from between your fingers. 

“Okay, alright. Just… stop all that.” He made a gesture toward, well, you in general just as you lowered your hands to your lap. 

Gotcha.

“Follow me. I’ll show you to the confessional.” You hopped down from the bench, adding a bit of extra sway to your hips the moment you heard his boots against the concrete behind you. “We really should wait until tomorrow for this, rules and all.” You whispered as you guided him into the chapel. “I’m sure the sisters would understand, though, given I haven’t been the most…devout during my stay.”

Daryl simply nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot under your gaze. “S’this the thing?” He motioned to the booth with a sweep of his hand, looking as if he might bolt at any given moment. 

“Mhm.” You nodded, opening the door for him to enter. The fact he didn’t yet realize he’d been busted was amusing, but you weren’t just out for a laugh. 

“Right.” He cleared his throat and stepped inside. With a sly grin, you followed right behind him and pulled the door closed with your back pressed against it. There was about enough room for him to turn and look at you with wide, blue eyes. “Pretty sure you’re s’posed to be on the other side.”

“Nah, I like this side.” You slipped off your jacket and pulled your shirt over your head, letting both fall to the small area by your feet. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” You purred as you pressed flush against him. Daryl held his hands out away from you as far as he could in the limited space. “What’s wrong, Father? Don’t you want me?”

“Ya know I ain’t no priest.”

“Mhm.” You ran your thumb over his bottom lip while your tongue traced your own. “If you don’t want me, I can go. Do you want me to go?” 

“No.”

“Then sit down and let me tell you my sins.” He allowed you to grip his shoulders and push him onto the small bench. With hardly enough room to bend, you had to do some maneuvering to toe off your boots and shimmy your jeans down your legs to lift your feet out of them, pulling the rosary Sister Catherine had given you from the pocket first. 

Daryl was watching you silently. When you twisted an arm behind yourself and unclasped your bra, his hands moved to his belt buckle. You didn’t wait and straddled his lap wearing nothing but your modest cotton panties. He was still working at his zipper when your clothed cunt brushed the top of his knuckles. 

“Damn, woman, ain’t even touched ya yet.” His trousers were open but his cock was still held captive in the confines of his underwear. 

“I’ve been a bad girl, Father.” You purred, rolling your hips against his groin as your mouth slanted over his. He responded with equal fervor, licking your bottom lip before tugging it with his teeth. You couldn’t have stopped the full body shiver if you tried. A gloved hand palmed your breast, his bare fingertips warm as they rolled and pinched your nipples. “I’ve lusted after a man. A dangerous man.”

With a smile against his mouth, you worked a hand between your bodies and into his pants, stroking him languidly while you draped the rosary over his head, twisting it to press tightly against his throat. Daryl growled, his hips bucking into your hand when you pulled him free. 

Large hands drifted over your ribs and down to your hips, fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties. “Off.” He demanded leaning forward to capture your lips as he pulled the garment down over your ass, holding you steady while you lifted one leg and then the other, letting them dangle from your ankle. 

You didn’t wait, found that you didn’t want to; sinking onto him with your jaw slack and eyes closed. The initial stretch burned, it had been so long since you’d taken a lover. Daryl filled you perfectly, your dripping cunt molding around his length. 

“Fuck.” He breathed, his head falling back against the wall. Apparently it had been a while for him as well. “You’re fuckin’ tight.”

You smirked and rolled your hips, gasping when his fingertips pressed into the skin there. “Such language, Father. So unbecoming.” A moan punched out of you when he thrust upwards, jarring you suddenly but hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. 

“Shuddup.” He snapped. His hands slid around to cup your ass, kneading and spreading you open, digging in his fingertips to manage a firm hold. With his help, you set a brutal pace, moans and whimpers echoing in the empty chapel. 

You twisted the rosary again, the beads digging into his throat. Using it as a leash, you pulled him to you, licking inside his mouth. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” You keened, enjoying the painful grip digging into your ass that only tightened with your words. 

Daryl growled, the sound strained against the pressure on his throat. His face was slightly red from exertion and lack of oxygen, but the twitch of his cock within you didn’t lie. He liked it. 

You felt the scorching heat begin pooling in your belly, the frantic way you were riding him quickly coaxing your orgasm to the surface. The twitch and slow pulse moving against your velvety walls gave away that he was soon to follow. His jaw was set, grunts and breathy whimpers spilling out of him each time your ass slapped his clothed thighs. 

Biting your lip, you stared into his lust blown eyes before placing your mouth directly in front of his. “For Thee have I kept the purity of my body, and to Thee have I entrusted my soul; wherefore, preserve Thou Thy lamb, O good Shepherd.” Making a choked noise against the rosary constricting even tighter, Daryl used his hold on your ass to lift you, pounding up into you from below. Your words were jarred and fragmented, breaths coming faster as you neared the precipice. “Do not permit…the beast which seeketh to devour me…to consume me, and…grant me to prevail over the evil desires of my flesh!” The last word broke off into a shout of his name. Seconds later, you felt him pulsing within you, warmth spreading and coating your walls while your pussy milked him dry. 

Panting, you released your grip on the rosary and fell against his shoulder, your body moving back and forth with each heaving breath he managed. “Amen.” He croaked. You chuckled but remained as you were for a moment, relishing the feel of him softening inside you. Letting him cum in you was probably one of the worst decisions you’d ever made but you had a track record of those a mile long. “Don’t think ya can say enough’a them hail Mary’s or whatever for what just happened.”

This time you gave a hearty laugh, sitting up on his lap while he slipped out of you. You kept him pinned where he sat but he didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he appeared to be quite content. Holding onto the silly scarf he wore, you leaned back to grab your jacket, smiling when his hands came up to ensure you didn’t fall. 

Plucking a cigarette from the coat pocket, you dropped it back to the floor and struck the lighter, inhaling as the paper lit up and burned down.  You even felt inclined to share, turning your hand to let him have a draw after every one of your own. 

“I hope you realize,” you paused to blow out the smoke, “that I’m coming with you when you leave.” His brow drew inward as he took the offered hit. 

“Ya don’t even know me or what we’re doing.”

You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Sick of being cooped up here.” The man hummed, but didn’t exactly agree. “Look, you can let me go with you willingly, or I can sneak off and follow you afterward. Your pick.”

He stared for a moment, eyes narrowed behind the smoke that billowed from his mouth. “Don’t leave me much of a choice, does it?”

“Nope.” You grinned. “Besides, I may need to confess every once in a while.” 

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #father daryl #the walking dead: daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl smut #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl the walking dead #daryl #daryl dixon walking dead #forgive me father for i have sinned #i am going to hell #Spotify

[thewritersaddictions]

(TWD) The Law: Daryl Dixon- Holy Innocence

Pairing: AU!Priest!Daryl Dixon x Virgin!Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Summary: You first meet Father Daryl while in confession, by the second time you go you can't help but expose your deepest secrets, and the third time Father daryl helps you with your secrets.

Warnings: Smut, AU, virgin! Reader, innocent reader, a teaching moment, dirty, rough, sex, pinv, unprotected sex, blowjob, (M Receiving) (F receiving), a little dirty talk, Masturbation, nicknames, Father Daryl kinda hot, confession, the church of god, godliness is next to cleanliness.

A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers, this came from watching the new AMC series The Walking Dead (Daryl Dixon) when one of the characters says that Daryl is a father Daryl from far away. (I don't really know how confession booths work, so work with me here)

WC- 13.1k

The Walking Dead Master List // The Law Master List

First Meeting 

The pure girl had nothing on you. You were refined to the bone, with white lace on the edges of everything you wore around town. Your small town knew all about you. You were the good girl who worked in the soup kitchen and helped your mother with the PTA at your younger sister’s catholic school—the sweet girl with a good life ahead of her. You were adorable. There was nothing against that, and your parents were just so happy with how your life turned out that when one of the choir boys had asked to take you out for a church together, your parents had let you walk out of the house with the boy’s hand interlocked in yours. 

That had been months ago. But every person has a different side, and that other side has made its first appearance in your relationship. You were sitting together on the loveseat in your living room. Bible study with your boyfriend while your parents were out of town. You’re so highly in tune with your reading of Leviticus that you first don’t notice the slight touch of his hand on your knee—pulling the cap off the highlight and holding it between your teeth. You read back to ensure it’s the line you want to highlight. The brush of his fingers on the tops of your thighs indeed should have pulled you from the page at hand, but it doesn’t, so he advances even further. You cap the highlighter and flip the page to make sure you haven’t caused a bleed of yellow highlight through to the next page when you feel the edge of your skirt pushed up past your thigh and a heavy hand resting on your warm skin. 

You swallow thickly before gathering your voice, “What are you doing?” You ask, still timid, “Don’t worry about it, baby.” Your boyfriend mutters softly as he inches his hand up further; he’s nearly touching where your hip dips into your stomach. “You should stop that.” You say, “We are together, aren’t we?” He asks, almost sounding offended that you don’t like how he’s touching you. “We are together, but.” You close your bible with the bookmark as a reminder of the page you’re on and wiggle your finger in your lap. The shine of the purity ring caught the light of the overhead light and the sunshine coming in through the window.  “Oh, the purity ring, I see.…” You think you’re in the safe at his words, but then he grabs your hand and slips the ring off your left ring finger. Letting it clang onto the side table next to him. “It’s off now, baby, so no harm done.” He murmurs into your heart. It sends a round of shivers down your spine. 

You just get out of his hold, pushing yourself off the loveseat and standing with your hands behind your back. “I think we are done doing bible study. You should leave. My sister and parents will return very soon.” You blubber out. You are swallowing hard when he gets up with a rage you’ve never seen behind his eyes. You lick your lips and watch as he angrily shoves his bible into his backpack and walks out the front door. He was slamming the front door behind him. You stand there with shaky hands. Slipping your purity ring back on your left ring finger. You smooth your skirt and slip on your shoes before grabbing your keys and driving down to the church. 

You need to go to confession and talk to your priest.

The drive to the church is a short one, having that you practically live right next to the church. You’ve been coming here for years. Good Word Catholic Church, your childhood church, and now the church you go to for confession. You’ve never been to the confession booth before, never really had anything to confess to god back. You were the good girl, the one that stuck to her road—towing both sides of good and evil, staying neutral through almost everything in your life. 

You parked the car, turning off the engine. Were you scared to go to confession? Was it a good idea? Had your boyfriend been proper, if you had just let him… Your thoughts are drained out when your eye catches a new priest—bounding out of the side door of the church. Shaggy brown hair that looked like he hadn’t brushed it in years, a beard growing whiter by the second. Shaking myself from the thoughts of this priest, I finally manage to get the courage to get out of the car, slamming the driver’s door as I lock the car and walk inside. 

A few pews have people sitting in them towards the back of the church. People sitting on their knees praying and hoping for the words they speak to god to become the much-needed reality to save their lives. Your small kitten heels click on the marble floor of the church confession booth. That’s what you’re eyeing for. You’ve never had to go looking for it, but you gather it would be in the front of the church, away from prying ears. 

An older woman stands at the front of the church. Lighting a few small candles, “Oh sweetie, what are you doing here?” She asks. Her voice is calm, and she’s always been like a second mother to you at the church. “I’m looking for the confession booth?” You ask her, and the shock is visible on her face. She swallows hard as if pushing back what she wants to say. Pointing toward the booth, “You’ll take the first right and then a left, alright, dearie.” You can just imagine the rumors that will spiral around your church. “Thank you so much; I just needed to talk to someone who could help me with my sister’s issues.” You say the relief is also visible on the woman’s face. 

Your sister was the trouble child; you only ever got one good kid, is what you had heard around town. She was a part of all the wrong things: boys, parties, and everything else that seemed to have a lousy mark stamped on top. “Well, I’ll pray for your sister.” You nod and thank her again as you move through the halls to the confession booth. But now that you’re standing infront of the booth, you’re starting to get worried; the hesitance is just on the nips of your heels. It told you just to get back in your car and drive home. Forget about all of it together. Forget how your boyfriend touched you, how much you liked it. How it had sent shivers down your spine, and you weren’t sure what it meant at all. You swallowed hard and opened the door to the confession booth. 

The booth is small, no bigger than a phone booth you used to see has a young child. You sit on the plush multi-colored cushion, and the door shuts behind you. You put your pocketbook down on the floor. That’s when you hear the click of the other door before you say a word to the priest on the other side. You form the cross against your chest. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, and through the mesh window, you hear a heavy sigh. “Is this your first confession?” The man asks you, and it doesn’t sound like the regular priest you see every Wednesday and Sunday. You don’t ask the question that’s now poking your thoughts, “Yes Father.” You answer the mysterious voice on the other side of the mesh. “That’s okay. Do you need a moment?” The father asks you. You shake your head and then remember the mesh between you. “No, Father.” You answer him. “So tell me why you are here.” You swallow, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned; this is my first confession.” Your voice feels like it’s echoing in the wooden booth. 

You twirl your purity ring on your finger. “I have… well, I need some advice, Father,” I tell the Father on the other side of the booth. He hums, “Tell me what worries you?” His voice is so soothing to the bone that I can’t imagine anything else. “I have been with my boyfriend for less than a year. He was so sweet and godly, but today… oh, Father.” You mutter over your words, “He touched me, and I… he took off my purity ring. I don’t know if it felt wrong and so right at the time. I think, no, I know that I’m scared. I don’t want to do anything wrong in God’s eyes. Please, I just need help with how I’m supposed to feel about these feelings?” You beg the Father. 

He hums once more, and the sound calms you. Your ring still takes swirls and twirls around your left finger with ease. You worry for a moment when the silence is too grave for you. “Don’t worry about your purity; you will stay pure as long as you resist the urges that your boyfriend is pushing onto you. But don’t forget to trust in God’s plan.” The Father says gently.  “Yes, Father.” You mutter, and before you can get up to collect yourself and your purse on the floor, the Father says something else that settles in your stomach in an oddly comfortable way. 

“Before you go, Miss, I’d like to see you in my office after Sunday’s service. Don’t worry about repenting just yet.” His words tickle your skin in a new and exciting way you’ve never felt. You nod and gather yourself. You grabbed your purse quickly before leaving the booth and the church altogether. You barely manage to get to your car before the heavy breath you didn’t realize you were holding let go. That heavy sigh made your shoulder lighten. 

His voice flits in your mind for hours after you visit the church. ‘Don’t worry about repenting just yet.’ It bounces from one side to the other. It makes you dizzy as you sit there in your kitchen with a glass of ice-cold water soothing you out of your thoughts. Your mother and father will be back with your sister in hours, so for now, you’ll push his words out of your mind. 

You shift off the small bar stool and hop into the kitchen, ready to make dinner. At least once a month, you make your family dinner to show appreciation for everything they’ve done for you. You get to work immediately. You were slipping on your apron and tearing through the fridge for fresh vegetables and a good hearty piece of protein. It doesn’t take long to get in the groove of the night. And while you wait for the last of the dinner to finish in the oven, you even manage to set the table with the fine china that your mother and father had received on their wedding. 

You even make a sweet treat for your family before they enter the driveway and park in the garage. Your mother is the brightest person you’ve ever met. Nothing dims her shining, happy light. The one that burns just like you in your chest. “Oh, sweetie, you made dinner for us.” Your mother says if she doesn’t know, it’s always on the same day. “And she even brought out the good china from the cabinet.” Your father adds. Coming around the island to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He says warmly before setting his bags down at the bottom of the stairs. “It smells wonderful, baby.” Your mother mutters as she repeats her husband’s steps. 

“So, what have you been doing while we were away?” Your mother asks sweetly before cutting into her food. The four of you sit around the table, mostly enjoying each other company. Your sister is the only grouch at the table. She’s the opposite of you, and sometimes you question if she’s even your sister; her only saving grace is the baby pictures in your family album. Black, filthy, and dirty to the bone. “I went to the church today.” Your mother lights up with excitement as she asks about people there who are her friends. “No, but I did bump into the older woman who lights the candles for afternoon mass.” Your mother hums, “What were you there for, darling?” Your father asks, his eyes boring into you. 

“I went to ask the priest for some help. I just…” “For help with what?” Your parents ask in unison, worried about their first and best daughter. “I’m just getting a little worried about um…” your eyes skit over to your younger sister. She rolls her eyes. “Oh, sweetie. We know you care a lot about us, but let us deal and worry about your sister.” Your father says as his knife digs into the china, earning a slap from his wife.

--

Second Meeting

The full-length mirror on the back of your bedroom door shows your outfit off—the pink mesh flare of the sleeves and the pink bodice. The gold cross sits underneath the bow that is tied around your neck. Your hair is pulled up and away from your face, showing off the little makeup you’ve placed onto your face: light mascara and a tint of pink lipstick. You can hear your mother yelling from downstairs in the early morning. “Coffee is ready, and we are leaving in ten!” She screams from the bottom of the stairs. 

You don’t scream back like your younger sister, her voice echoing through the upstairs hall. You grab your purse and slip on your small white kitten heels. Take one last look at yourself in the mirror before going downstairs. Your mother hands out a coffee as the three of you wait for your lazy sister. You can hear your father scrambling around in the living room, “Honey, where’d my jacket go?” He yells to your mother; she sighs and rolls her eyes with a faux annoyance. “It’s on the coat rack.” There’s a pause and a few loud footsteps before you can hear your father’s voice again. “Thank you, honey.” He says as he walks into the kitchen. 

“Is she still not down from her room?” He asks us, “No, Daddy, she hasn’t come down yet.” He groans with frustration and walks out without another word. The loud, hammering footsteps as he climbs the stairs are my mother and I’s sign to gather ourselves before he can even come down. 

Your mother takes one last sip of her coffee before rinsing her cup, grabbing her purse, and getting her coat. “Come on, honey.” She says to you. You repeat her actions, sipping your last coffee drop, grabbing your purse, and slipping into your black coat. Your father and sister both have the same look on their face. Annoyed, bothered, and irritated. Your sister is rolling her eyes with frustration. 

The slam of both the driver’s and back passenger doors tells your mother that an argument was most definitely had. With that out of the way, the car is reversed, and your whole family goes down the driveway. The further you get from your house, the more the usual chatter between your mother and father begins. You aren’t listening, but the music fills the rest of the silence. 

That is, until your phone dings within your purse. The smile on your face disappears; in large text, your boyfriend’s name is on your screen. You click on the text message and unlock your phone to see the entire message. Which is shorter than you think it probably should be. “Look, I’m sorry, but you’ve got to work with me here.” You roll your eyes. ‘Work with you like that will never happen again.’ You think to yourself; you scramble to finish your message as you see the car lot of the church just ahead of the stoplight. 

–

It had only been two days after your family had come home, two days after your confession to the new and mysterious priest. Your boyfriend was back at it; it happened in your room this time. Somehow, it felt filthy and unholy. Not a bible in sight, not that there wasn’t one stuffed in your side table. It starts innocently, the knock on your door. “Hey, baby.” His voice is laced with sugar, sending a smile onto your face. “Your dad said I could walk up.” He says as he stands there at your doorframe. Waiting to be let in. You eye him up and down. A blue polo shirt, a pair of dark-washed jeans, and some black socks. You watch as he wiggles his toes on the hardwood floor. “Come in.” You say, opening the door and moving out of the way. He takes a seat at the edge of your bed. 

He’s been in there once or twice, always with the door open. But now, with the door closing, he climbs onto your bed to sit next to you. It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. It seems like hours pass between you as he sits there with his arms draped ever so nicely over your shoulder, legs tabled as you press your hand and head into his chest. The air is calm all around you. You can even feel a hush heartbeat, a slow and steady beat against your ear. The movie plays with the words filling the bottom of the screen. 

Everything is copacetic. Nothing out of line happens as you give the remote to him to select a new movie. For a fleeting moment your mind travels to the week prior. Maybe his actions were one out of yearning. Perhaps it was just one little outlier in your relationship; everything is going on just fine, so there’s no reason to believe it would go awry. You snuggle deeper into his chest, breathing him in with every breath taken. 

Then, the bubble you have so extensively created shatters like a stained glass window pane. All your thoughts pause, your mind frozen in the blimp of time, your heart skipping a steady beat with your breath. The hand resting on his chest so nicely is being picked up and transplanted. You barely even registered it at first; you focused on the movie. It’s not until his giant hand is pressing your smaller, softer hand into the fabric of his jeans. The zipper leaves indents on your skin. It doesn’t hurt by any means, and when you finally look away from the screen, the shock is written on your face. “What are you doing?” The beautiful glass wall you’d built was crumbing rather quickly once you made eye contact with him. An evil grin was present on his features, a different sparkle in his eyes—a wicked grin.  Making you shriek and run away, or worse, not move at all. 

“Nothing, baby. Don’t worry about a thing, sweetheart.” He muttered into your hair, never once looking down at you. His eyes stick to the TV screen, but when you try to move his hand away. The veins within his hands popped, and his grip on your hand worsened. “Don’t. Move. Your. Hand.” His words are sharp, and you know for a fact he means every single word, even if you weren’t not looking right at him.

“You can’t go running, Daddy, and you can’t yell for him to come up here. What would he think about seeing you with your hand halfway down your boyfriend’s pants?” His tone sets it all. Fear boils in the back of your throat as you try desperately one last time to pull your hand from his grip. He looks down at you for the first time. His eyes are dark, and the fear at the back of your throat comes up. Squeezing your throat, making you mute and malleable to all of his actions. “Unzip my jeans.” His voice is controlled and quiet. It sends an uncomfortable shiver down my spine, shooting throughout my body. “Be a good girl and do what I’m tellin’ you.” Your boyfriend’s demands. You swallow hard and wiggle your hand out of his grip, cold metal touching the tips of your fingers as you drag down the zipper. 

The bulge your hand had been sitting over was even more prominent now. Hot even through the jeans and boxers that protect you from the inevitable, dangerous thing you are being pushed to do. “Now pull my cock out, baby, I know you wanna.” He whispers into your forehead. “What… I don’t….” The words get stuck—the air passing through your lips. “You don’t what? You don’t know how to jerk a cock? You need me to teach you, baby?” He sounds so cocky. 

You don’t say anything, so he takes it as a hint. He moves quickly, shifting just enough to pull down his jeans and boxers. Then he manhandles you and places you on his thighs. You’re staring. What else does he expect you to do? “Oh, you like what you see. I knew you would like what you saw once you saw it.” Your thighs burn as you try to balance yourself upon his lap. He grabs you sweetly, cupping your much more petite in his large one. “We’ll take it slow, baby, I promise.” His voice is slick with honey as you lean into the touch of his warm hand against your skin. “Okay.” You whimper out, and he grins like the Cheshire cat. “I’ll take of you, and you’ll take care of me, right?” He asks you; you bite the inside of your cheek. You were trying to understand his meaning for the last time and nod your head. 

It’s only until you’re walking down the stairs with him two hours that night that the horrible feeling begins to pit at the bottom of your stomach. You’ve done an awful thing. Your boyfriend had promised that nothing wrong had happened. Had you thought that because all you did was touch him and content that you were in the clear? But when he kissed your cheek and walked down to his truck, his words left no comfort in his wake. That crumbling sense in the pit of your stomach only grew as you washed your hands in the bathroom. The sticky feeling of his release is still all over your hands. As you slipped your purity ring off, the pit grew larger, threatening to swallow you whole. The banging on the bathroom door was the only thing that managed to drag you out of your quicksand thoughts. “Are you almost done in there? Mom said… oh you don’t give a shit, just can you move quicker.” You can hear your sister through the door and dry your hands off before slipping the ring back on and taking one last look at yourself in the mirror. 

You don’t look any different, but the feeling in your stomach and mind has you feeling differently. You feel like the minute you get downstairs, everyone will know because, well, doesn’t Christ already know you’ve sinned? 

– 

This Sunday church service starts like any other, gathering with the many of you through the doors. Your mother sets her purse down as if anyone will steal her spot and goes to talk with her friends before mass starts. Your father does the same, gathering to speak with his golf buddies in a small circle. Your sister and you sit side by side in utter and complete silence. The squeeze of your mother and father alerts you that the service is about to start. 

“I know I’m not your typical priest, but I hope I’m a suitable replacement. I’m Father Dixon. Most of you will worry about Father McPhobe; he has taken ill but is doing great. If you want to send anything to him, take that up with the director at the end of this service. Now let us get into today’s sermon.” The new priest spoke, his voice echoing off the walls. I opened my bible and went to listen. You heard your mother, for a moment, whisper to your father. “I hope Father McPhobe is okay, but I already like Father Dixion.” Your father hummed and looked down at his bible in his lap. 

You don’t think about it now. It’s just muscle memory for you, the standing, sitting, standing and singing, the sitting. At the same time, you pray with your family, the collection bowl going around to collect for whatever the church is sponsoring, and the eventual blood of Christ. Regardless of sitting and standing, you always get up to take the blood of Christ. You squeeze past your sister and a few others before getting in line. It’s not until you’re standing in that line that the voice bouncing off the walls and stained glass windows hit you like a freight train in your mind. 

It’s the same voice. The same voice from the confession booth. He knows your little secret and wants to see you today—your heart races against your breastbone. And when you’re finally in the front of the long line, the father gives you the cup, his finger grazing over yours, sending shivers down your spine and your sipping. His eyes never leave yours. “And the body of Christ, miss.” You take it and walk away. With every click and southern draw of his voice, it’s sure him. It’s him, for sure. You almost hope and pray and forget that he wanted to see you. He hasn’t heard you talk, so there’s no way he could know that it was you in the confession booth. You wonder if he even knows who you are? 

That thought gets answered quickly as you gather yourself together—your purse in one hand and your bible in the other. Your family walks down the aisle towards the door. The priest, the dark-haired priest, is standing there, greeting every single person, shaking their hands, and introducing himself just a little bit more. “Father Dixon, that was just a wonderful sermon today. I can’t tell you how sad it is to hear that Father McPhobe is ill.” Your father’s voice travels for every ear to hear, and as you try to hide behind your mother and father, it’s hard not to be recognized by others who work at the church. “My wife will be talking to the director to get a fund together for whatever Father McPhobe might need.” Your mother grins and nods her head along with her husband. “And this is our daughter.” Your father says, dragging you from mostly behind him. 

“You must be the one everyone is always talking about around here in all the support groups and even a part of other things. You are a true representation of a good Christian girl. You’ve raised her well.” Father Dixion says to your mother and father. Your mother bursts into a full grin, and your father laughs. “She’s the best.” “I hope you don’t mind if I steal her. I have a few new ideas concerning the Toys for Tots Christmas donation.” Your father shakes his head. “Just call me when you need me to pick you up, okay pumpkin.” He grabs your neck and kisses your forehead before ushering your family out. 

Now, the two of you stand there, alone yet crowded by the people still around. “Father Dixon?” He hums as he grabs someone’s hand and shackles, thanking them for coming to the service. “We’ll go talk after I’m done here, alright? Just take a seat other there, and I’ll come get you when I’m done.” His voice is thick southern and makes you wable as you walk towards a bench lining a wall not far from him. Not only does the thick southern accent have you drowning in an emotion or feeling you’ve never felt, but the authority in his voice is no different than in the confession booth. 

Time passes by slowly, but when the Father is done, you feel the smallest of taps on your shoulder. Bringing you out of your dozing-off state. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.” The father says, his hand resting on your shoulder. You look around to see that most people at the service have abandoned the main hall. “Everyone’s gone home?” You ask; he hums and walks towards the last two open doors. You quickly follow him down the hallway that turns into turns of rights and left until you’re closer to the staff section of the church. The walk back there is met with silence, neither one of you talking, and as much as you’d like to hear his voice more as you wander down the halls, you’re glad there aren’t words yet spoken. 

Because the reality is you don’t know what you would even say. 

When you do finally manage to get to his office, he opens the door like a gentleman, and you enter. “Excuse the boxes. I’m still trying to get settled.” He says with a chuckle. You take in the room, spacious and filled with a few boxes, most of which are already torn down and staked in the corner of the room. A large black desk sits in the back of the room, two chairs in front of it. You take it that he might have already had a few meetings. You’re too far distracted by looking around to notice that the Father had stripped himself of church attire or that he’s shut and locked the office door. Trapping you in the room with him, and no eyes on you. 

“For a Father, you dress surprisingly casually.” The words blurt out before you catch them and shove them deep down in your tummy. He shrugs his shoulders. A pair of dark-washed jeans that hold everything in just the right place, and a white button-up. He looks like he just got back from a work trip. You suppose he did. “Is this your normal church attire, seeing as I haven’t seen you here for the past two weeks.” His eyes rake over your frame. You had hoped the dress would work, but you wish you had gone for something less eye-catching. You look down at the dress and smooth the fabric on your lap. 

Father Dixon moves, resting his behind on the edge of the large desk, his ankles crossed as he stares down at you. His gaze was hot, and searing you. The silence grows, and of course, the father is the one to break it. “You don’t have to look so damn nervous and worried.” You hum, not listening to his words by any means. Relaxation doesn’t come easy to you as you sit there, fiddling with your thumbs, you get more and more nervous. 

You sense the shift in the room as the Father moves, taking a knee in front of you. He clears his throat, “Listen to me, yeah, take a few deep breaths.” His face is so pretty this closeup. Fluttering lashes, a set of beautiful sky blue eyes staring deep into your soul, and a set of very kissable lips, so puffy and pillow-like from this closeup. His hands ghost over your own, and it only makes you want to grab it. To ground yourself, of course, not because you desperately want to feel the way his hands feel in your own, or anything like that. “Breathe with me, in and out.” He coaches you, taking a deep breath in with you and exhaling with you. 

When he’s satisfied that you aren’t about to explode with anxiety, he gets up from his kneeling position, and grabs you cold water from the mini-fridge. “Gotta keep the lunch cold.” He says as if he needs to explain why he’s got a mini fridge in his office. You watch him the entire time as he bends over to grab the water from the bottom tiny shelf how he rounds out the jeans in a most perfect way. How long his large and imposing frame truly is. You have to move your eye quickly when he shuts the door to the fridge and swings around. You take the water from his hands, fingers grazing over the top of his hand. You swallow and unscrew the lid like you’ve been stuck in the desert without water for days. 

He watches out; you can see him out of the corner of your eye. Biting his bottom lip, and for a moment, you wonder what he must be thinking about. You wonder what goes through the mind of a priest. You don’t get the chance to ask him because he’s back to controlling the conversation, not that you mind. Too fear you might stumble over your words without a topic already at hand. “You’re the young woman from the booth a few weeks ago, right?” He asks, you nearly squeeze the water bottle and get ice-cold water all over yourself, but you don’t Instead, you gag a little and cough before screwing the cap back on and staring up at him for the first time and really staring at him, not looking at him but over his shoulder. His eyes tear you apart in a way you’ve never felt before. You nod still not trusting your voice, and now your words. 

“So everything has been going well since your last confession?” He asks, as if it’s a casual conversation you would have a person on the side of the street. You manage only a quiet mumble of a “Yes, Father Dixon.” He chuckles, “When it’s just the two of us, you can call me Daryl, ya know.” He says as he takes a seat beside you in the other chair. But he does light up at your response. “That’s wonderful, so I shouldn’t be hearin’ your voice in my confession booth ever again?” He asks, the authority all coming back. Demanding me never to come back, but something is growing deep down. It’s been growing for the past few weeks.

You smile, but it’s brought with a shrug of your shoulders. Making the see-through fringe crinkle as your shoulder bobbed. His brow raises like the Father is about to be disappointed, instead, he just wants to know what’s been happening. “So something did happen? For a sin for lying and one for whatever you’re about to tell me.” You swallow down hard, making your throat bob up and down. Your head shakes, as if you’re just a puppet on someone else strings. 

“We… and he… it was going so normal and innocent, but then.” You fumble over your words. A large hand comes over to rest on your much smaller one. Rough calluses on the pads of his fingers and palm bring you out of your rambling state and gets your attention back on him. “You can tell me. Just take your time, sweetheart.” His nickname makes you shiver as you try to grow the confidence to tell the Father now everything that happened without the mesh wall in the way, and while his hand is wrapped in yours. Supportive or not, it drives you crazy. “He, um finished. Made it to the end of the line, all over us.” You’re trying your hardest not to cring at your own words. 

Then, something passes over his face—hate, disgust, embarrassment. You can’t read him well enough to understand what it means, but he ends up repeating his previous words. “So one sin for lying, and another sin for whatever the two of you got up to together.” his voice is dripped with authority, and his grip on your hand loosens before eventually drifting away. A large part of you wants to drag his hand back, but you don’t. “I have sinned, Father Dixion.” You say, blush creeping up from nowhere onto the apples of your cheeks. 

Father Dixon shifts in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and letting the almost consume you. “I don’t think asking for forgiveness will wash away your sins this time, sweetheart.” There’s that damn nickname again. It sweeps across your mind like a broom, leaving nothing behind in its wake except thoughts of what other nicknames he might call you. What nicknames you would call Father Dixon or Daryl? Or whatever you’re supposed to call him. The words rush from your mouth, “I’ll do anything!” A seductive smirk grows on his face, inching closer and closer to his ears. “Anything?” He echos. “Yes, anything. I promise anything.” 

“Will you show me how he made you touch him? Because I know you didn’t start all that inappropriate touching. You’re too good to be groping men while behind closed doors, right?” Your eyes shift towards the closed doors, and you swallow hard. Your gaze travels back to Daryl, your priest. Father Dixon. The minute your eyes meet, the fear and worry wash away. Something about him is so dominating and calming at the same time; it confuses you and sets you on edge. “I’ll do anything if it will wash away my sins. I’ll do whatever you want, Daryl.” The minute his name leaves your mouth, his hands are on you. He’s up in a matter of seconds, and manhandling you to place you on the sturdy desk beneath you.

Your dress hikes up with the movement; Daryl slots himself between your open legs. Hiking up the skirt even further. “So what did he do first?” He asks you. The heat radiating off his body fries your brain for a moment before your senses pick up on the cologne that’s now wrapped around the both of you. He smiles like fall nights when the leaves are crunchy, and the sandalwood. It lulls you further into a calm state, “We were laying together on my bed; he was holding me so gently at first.” Your words come better now, and for whatever reason, you continue. “Then he was moving my hand, the one that was resting on his chest down further. Pressing it into his jeans.’ You swallow and watch as Daryl tries to mimic the movements. 

He grabs your hand, dragging it down his chest and towards the buckle of his dark-washed jeans. You can feel the familiar heat, the tent in his pants more significant than your boyfriends. He’s slow with every movement. Taking baby steps. “Then what?” He asks once he’s trapped your smaller hand between his own and his jeans. “He pressed my hand into it; I tried asking him what he was doing, but he said he wasn’t doing anything.” He rolls his eyes but presses your hand softly into the tent of his jeans. 

Voice low and raspy. “This right here is how turned on I am right now. The tent in my jeans right here. That’s the cause of you, sweet girl.” Darly murmurs sweetly into your ear. You shudder as his words send shivers down your spine, and his confession takes you aback. “What happened after, huh?” He groans out as your hand wiggles under the pressure. “When I tried to move my hand, he got angry, tried yelling at me, then switched tactics.” Darly stares deep into your ear, nearly noses brushing together. “Do you want me to tell you what to do now, too?” The question throws you way off bases nearly out into the empty field. “Yes, please, Daryl.” You say under your breath. He gives you a moment before pressing you for more information. “He made me unzip his, um… his jeans, and he called me a good girl.” The last part of your sentence is hushed mostly under your breath, but because the two of you are so close, it’s not that hard for Daryl to hear you. 

“Did you like it when he called you a good girl? Do you wanna try and be a good girl for me?”He asks you, and without hesitation, you’re nodding. Pleading him practically to tell you that you’re doing a good job even if it’s him guiding your hand. “Well then, unzip my jeans, and I’ll treat you like a good girl deserves to be treated..” He whispers into your ear. His nose brushed up against the top of your ear. You do as you are told, unzipping the zipper. The only sound you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears and the erratic breathing of Daryl in front of you. 

The weight of his cock sits heavy on your hand. His red and angry tip leaking pre-cum all over your fingers and hand. Your stare is serious yet it seems that Daryl isn’t bothered by it. The two of you are so close, somehow inching closer together. “God, you’re hands are so soft and tiny…” Daryl groans as you try to wrap your hand around the girth of his cock but fail. You barely manage to get your pointer finger and thumb to touch, and that’s just around the head of his cock. “What else did he ‘teach’ you, huh? Did you tell you how fast to jerk his cock off? Did he have to edge him until her busted all over your hand and pretty little fingers?” His questions are sent into a hot flash. You don’t want to remember what your boyfriend asked you; you care that right now you’re jerking off your priest cock in the church you’ve been going to since you were a child, and you feel no remorse at all. It makes you feel giddy, and with that comes more confidence. Fast and sloppier strokes to Daryl’s cock cause his head to fall forward. Bumping into yours, you breathe him in as if you’ll never get another chance. His grains turn into breathy moans as you swipe your sticky thumb over the tip of his cock. 

“God, you’re so good at this, and I can’t… “ He bites his lip to cover the words at the back of his throat. Trying not to take advantage has turned into taking advantage of you. You seem to be playing along for now, and as long as you are playing, why not have fun with it as well? One of his hands falls to the wooden desk next to one of your hips. He’s desperately searching for a grip on something. “Are you gonna cum, Father Dixon?” You ask him, you’re soaked, dripping in honey. He nearly moans when your other hand rubs his balls, “Say my name!” He demands it of you, and you oblige happily. “Cum all over my hand, Daryl… Please, I want to see what you look like when you cum. Please won’t you cum for the innocent young women, Daryl.” Your words make your stomach do flips, so you can only imagine how to push him over the edge as he grains and tries not to shout your name for the whole church to hear. 

It’s not til after Father Dixon had cleaned himself up and stuffed himself back into his jeans that he looks up at you. Still sitting there on the edge of his desk, you’re so fucking pretty. Innocent is wrapped around you like a halo glowing brightly in the background, but he fears he might have awakened something within you. “You’re a picture, a beaut.” He mutters under his breath as he presses his lips into yours. You frozen for a moment, and he worries he’s crossed over that line but not so many others. Then you’re melting. Melting into his lips, his touch, and his hold. You’re melting into him. Your lips are delicious, tasting of cherry lip smacker and a ting of coffee still left from your morning before church. Daryl tastes just as good. A minty freshness left behind, but there’s something else you can’t place your tongue on yet. 

“What am I supposed to do now, Daryl? Have I been washed of my sins? And my boyfriend, what about him?” You ask the father; he closes his eyes and presses his forehead into yours. Thinking for a moment that seems to span on forever. “How about you wait for a good, right, mature man to come and take care of you?” he offers, “Someone who can take care of me, you say.” his words bounce around in your mind as you text your father that you’re meeting with Father Dixion had been eye-opening, and that you were done. Before Daryl allows you even to leave his office, “You should have my phone number just in case you need some help with the toys for tots,” Daryl says as he stops in his spot. When he turns, your phone is already out, and on your new contacts page, he names himself Father Daryl and proceeds to text himself. Daryl is quick to walk to the front door of the church. Waving at your father. “Come to me whenever you’re ready.” He whispers into your ear as you pass him and get in your father’s truck. 

“That was a long meeting.” Your father comments, and for the first time since church ended, you look at the clock. Service had finished at noon, and now it was nearly three. You wonder where the time had escaped. “He just wanted to get to know me; I’m on all the committees here, so he managed to get a lot of information and help from me.” Your father grins at you. “You’re the best, you know that. The best daughter I could have asked for Pumpkin.” Your father’s words make you look back at your situation with the priest. Best is not what you would call it. Your sister wouldn’t call you that it, and neither would your mother, nor what you had done with the priest of your church. Your shrug the thought off, and think only of Daryl for the rest of the ride home. 

---

Third Meeting 

You aren’t sure where the sudden ache between your thighs is coming from you’re just sure that Father Daryl Dixon is all you’ve been able to think about recently. All you think about is the way his cock felt in your hand. The way it felt, how it pulsed in your hand as your words reached his ear with pleasure. How when you had finally arrived home you noticed just how wet your panties were, and wondered if there would be a next time. 

Daryl had made it out to seem like there would be a next time, but you only wondered when you would be able to get your hands on him again. It seemed that your one ‘meeting’ with the father had changed your whole course of being. You had not changed outwardly into a different person by anymeans, but the things you thoughts weren’t what an innocent girl that went to church, and worked in the soup kitchen thought. Daryl, knowingly or not had changed you forever. 

So, a few nights latter when the itch to feel the same feeling between your legs arised your jumped at it. Except what are you supposed to put into the google search engine. Confused you looked between your phones screen and your bedroom door, then back to your phone. Without a second thought you placed your phone down on your bed, and lifted the covers back to padd across your floor to your sisters bedroom door. You knocked gently before waiting for a response. 

Nothing, so you knocked again. “I need to ask you something?” You barley whispered it through the wooden door. A few moments passed, and then it was opened. A begruded look on your sisters face. As if she was annoyed at your sudden knocking at her door. “What do you want?” She asked rolling her eyes at you. You cleared your throat. “I… how do…why…” You mumbling only caused her to get more aggravated at you. Grabbing your forearm she dragged you into her room. 

In comparison her room wasn’t much different then yours. The shared bathroom between was the only room your both used on a daily basis but it was kept neutral. Posters, and othe things hung on the wall of her room. Darker sheets, and paint. “What do you need?” She asked again as she shut her bedroom door. You wiggled your nose trying to come up with some sort of words to express yourself. She stared at you for a long minute before shaking her head. “Are you in my room because mom and dad sent you in here to make sure I was still alive?” She asks venom laced around each word. “NO!” Shouting catching the both of you off guard. Then the words that you weren’t able to find earlier come all flooding out at once. “I wasjust wondering what that feeling you know  between your thighs is? Also how do I get it back?” You asked her and as the words hit your ears and her the embarrassment came rolling back and the confidence went out the window. She gigglese and then laughs at you. Then notices that you aren’t joking or pulling her leg.

 “Oh my god you’re serious?” She asks, you swallow and nod. “Oh you sweet child.” She mutters as she walks closer to you, your sister talks to you like your the younger sister sometimes. Regardless of that though, she sit down next to you on her bed. “What have you been doing with that boyfriend of yours?” She asls wiggling her brows at you, you shake your head, and start o confess to her but before you can get the words out of your mouth she’s ranting on about what you’ve got to do. “So you’re talking about that feeling between your thighs, that wet feeling that sorta aches right?” She asks just verifying, you nod unable to speak words at this moment. “So if you aren’ with your boyfriend then you can just look up something on internet. But make sure that your engine is on private, so if mom and dad go snooping they can’t that their perfect daughter is perfect anymore.” Your sisters last words aren’t filled with jealously or even envy. It’s almost sounds like she’s relieved that she isn’t the one that the sun shines on everyday. 

“What do I search up?” You ask even if the embarrassment to crushing your lungs of oxygen. “Here I’ll show you.” She grabs her phone off the side table. Swiping through a few screen before landing on a search engine and then she clicks it over to private, “That button might be somewhere else if you aren’t using the same search engine as I am.” She notes, before continuing. In the private engine shetypes quickly, but the words are in big bold letters to your eyes. “Just look up porn, or maybe you’re an audio person they’ve got some of that too.” You sisters adds once again. Your cheeks feel as if they’re on fire, but for the first time you’re having a normal conversation with your sister its feels like years since you’ve talked like normal people to each other. 

“Is this the first time we’ve talked in years?” You comment as you look around her room, she chuckles. “Probably.” Again she doesn’t sounds like she full of envy or that she’s even mad at you. “I’m just glad I’m not you.” Her words hit you in an uncomfortable way, “what do you mean?” You asks not fully understanding, “I just mean that when you fall, you’re going to land hard and fast on the ground that you’ve created.” You still don’t understand, “Mom and Dad seen a perfect girl, and when they learn of whatever is going on with you the world you’ve created for them of you is going to crash and burn.” It sounds like sound advice if you can call it advice. You nod, “Thanks.” Is all you say. The two of you sit in silence for a minute, before she groans out. “Get out of my room now, I was trying to sneak out before you rudely interrupted me.” You laugh and shake your head. “If you don’t tell mom and dad about me sneaking out I won’t tell them about our conversation.” She adds, “Sounds fair.” You say before getting up and walking out of her room.

The sun had already set byt the time you make it back to your bedroom, so you shift around to close your blinds. Before coming back to your door slipping the door locked before climbing back into your bed and grabbing your phone before getting under the covers. Your slick sleepwear isn’t that much of a barrier. As you settle under your sheet you get a message from your sister. “I’d wear headphones too, big sis.” She texts, sending a thumbs up before digging around in your side table for a pair of loose headphones to jack into your phone. 

You follow your sisters directions with ease. Clicking on the search enegie, and maing sure that it’s in private mode before search those big bold words that are stucking to the back of your eyes. Your fingers are slowler then your sisters, but you get there all the same. You’re bombarded with images of naked women, and men. It causes you to panic for a minute, before you remember what your sister said to you. “Audio” That was also an option, so going up to the search engine of the dirty website you put something simple into the bar. “Audio for women.” It takes a moment for the spinning circle of death to stop spining but then a few video popped up. This time there weren’t naked women and men that filled your screen. Instead drawn images with much better working titles, with that one catches your eye. 

You click the video the mans voice filtering through the headphones and right into your ears. It soothes you as his accent lulls you into a comfort. ‘You’re so wet for me love.’ the voice mutters into your ears. Starting off with no warning but it doesn’t matter as your set your phone and shift under the covers of your bed. Grabbing at the hem of your sleepwear shorts. The silk falls off your warm body to the bottom of the bed. ‘I bet you’re wet for me, being such a good girl for me.’ the man talks again, your moan lightly as your fingres graze over the wet spot that’s been getting wetter and wetter by the second. ‘You want me to play with your little clit, yeah I bet ya want me to make you feel good baby.’ as the man keeps talking the more you get into it.Your own fingers playing your clit through the soaked fabric, it’s not until the voice tells you that he wants you take off your panties do you. Kicking them to the edge ofthe bed under the covers. 

‘Now I want you to sink to of your fingers in baby. Get them all wet and soaked.’ The voice says in your ear, you moan at the intrude of your own fingers at your weeping hole. You trying to widden your legs to get more leverage but it only leaves you open to more of a stretch and for a fliting second your minds travels to Daryl and his hands. How large just one of his fingers are in comparison to yours. How the stretch of just one of his fingers would feel like. ‘Now I want you to pump your fingers slowly, and then get up to speed that comfortable for you doll.’ You nod your head at the words of a stranger, the angle is a little odd for your hand but you get used to it as the two of your longer inch to places you’ve never thought you could reach. 

The strange voice keeps talking walking you through the motion, then he tells  you that he wants you to rub your clit. ‘Rub your clit for me baby, but don’t stop pumping your fingers in and out of your cunt. I know you wanna cum all over your fingrs baby and this is how you’re gonna get there.’ the voice murmurs. A vibration ringing through your ears as your cheeks feel as if they’re on fire like the rest of your body. An unfamiliar bubble rolls around at the bottom of the tummy. The ache returns and then you figure it out. If your circle your clit just as fast as your fingers leave and return to the wet walls of your cunt your vision will go blurry and you’ll finally reach that desperate high you’re aching for so badly. Second by second the pleasure grows until your eye rolls back and the urge to scream swallows you whole. Except nothing comes out at all, your breath is gone and your scream is silent. Your legs shake under the confindes of the covers and you’ve created a wet spot that travels through your sheet. 

You remove your fingers from your cunt, and take a few longer moments to catch your breath. One full breath in and out doesn’t do enough to catch up with your heartbeat that’s been racing in one of your ears since one of the earplugs had come out with the trashing of your body. The video keeps playing until it ends and you’re quick to pulls away from the covers, and turns the video off and delete any trace of it off your phone. You reach down under the covers once you’ve gotten yourself stable, grabbing for both your panties and shorts. You opt for a new pair of panties and slip them on before the shorts. You fix your bed up with new sheets and comb a few stray hairs out of your face before returning back to your bed. 

You’re drawn from your dizzying, comfortable haze when a message passes over your lock screen. You catch the time, nearly eight at night. You breath deeply before clicking on the message. 

“You’ve been ignoring me.” The message reads. “I wasn’t meaning to, just have had a lot of things with church.” You type out and send to him, “Of course you have.” He response. “What do you mean?” You ask him, “I’m just sayin’ that you’ve never got time for us.” He’s got to be joking, you’ve always had time for him, he just never wants to do anything other touch you nowadays. “I always make time for you, but you never want to just hang out.” You type no anger just confusion is what bubbles up in your chest. “Of course I want to do more then hang out, we’ve been together for what like at least a few months now.” He sends back. You rolls your eyes at the redundant manner of the conversation. “We’ve already talked about this I’m not ready.” You respond, your response is point blank just like how it is when you’re talking to each other in person. “Yeah I figured as much when you’re acting like a tease but won’t put out for your own boyfriend.” He sends back and ou shake your head at the whole thing. “Well then maybe we should break up since you aren’t getting what you thought we were gonna get from me.” You send, without regret. A message is back in a matter of seconds. “Gladly, just know you won’t find anyone who’s willingly able to deal with your virgin ass.” He sends and then that’s it. Because what are you to say to that. He’s acting like a child, but you assume that’s no longer your problem is it. 

You sit there for a long moment, figuring out what you’re supposed to do now. You were floating on cloud nine, and now you’re at the the bottom of the ocean. Deep in your feelings, your can’t swim and even if you wanted to you can’t image you would want to swim to the top that’s until you’re scrolls through your phone in your contacts, and see Father Daryls contact. No image associated with the contact just his name, and an idea strikes you straight in your heart. You click on his contact, licking your lips you breath in deeply before writing out a message out to him. 

“Where are you right now, Daryl?” You send the message you wait for it to show that it been delivered and then that its been read. A few moments pass, and then you see those dots that dance at the bottom of your screen. “I’m in my office.” He response, when the dots finally stop dancing “Are you finally taking me on my offer?” Daryl asks you, your fingers move on their own accord. Typing out a message, exposing yourself to him. “I’m taking you up on your offer, Daryl. All I’ve been thinking about have been you. Your cock and how I want you to touch and make me feel like i felt when I leave you last week.” You type out, automatically there’s a winking emoji in your thread of messages. “You okay drive in the dark?” He asks you, “Yeah, let me just change out of my clothes.” You type out. 

“Be here in ten.” Is the last message you get from him before your drop your phone on the bed, and shift around your room to grab something more appropriate to go for a late night drive. You go for a pair of yoga pants and a loose t-shirt. One that your father had given to you when it no longer fit him in the stomach area. Grabbing your purse, and phone to quietly walk down the stairs. Your mother and father sitting in the living, your mother is the one that sees you first. “Where are you going?” She asks, looking down at her watch. You had seen the time before you left your room. “It’s nearly 9 at night.” Your father looks up from the basketball running on the tv. “You know my friends who’s got some family issues?” You ask your mother, she nods and waits for more information. “She need somewhere to crash for tonight. Her parents are in a really bad fight with each other tonight.” I say. Lying to my mother, for a meeting with my priest. “Oh poor girl, well you go be a good friend sweetie.” Your mother says looking back down at her book. “Just be safe please.” You father adds before returning his attention to the basketball game. 

You let go of the breath you didn’t realize that you were holding. You unlock the car door the minute you get outside. That’s when you see your sister climbing down the side of the house. You both eye each other and nod before looking away from each other. You get into the car fast, and turning on the engie and rolling down the drive way. The ten minutes are cutting it short when you get stopped at a few stop lights, but you still manage it. Pulling into the same spot that you had used when you had arrived at the church for your first confess. A ding rings through your car. You look through your purse for your phone. “Front door is locked, use the side door.” It reads. You nod to yourself as your cut the engine and grab your purse and lock the door before walking towards the side door. 

It’s not until you’re opening the door that you realize how scary the church is when there’s nobody there and it’s dark. You travel through the halls some dark and some bright with overhead lights flickering on and off. When you make it to his office, the door only cracked a little bit you still knock. “Come in.” He answers. His office is different then just a few days ago. The boxes are gone, and the things that littered his floor are either put up on shelves or are on his desk. He’s wearing from where you can see him another button up. “Hello sweetheart.” His accent running through the words. You standing there with your purse in front of you, but there’s an excited smile on your face. He returns the smile, and the smile grows even larger when you the next sentence comes flowing from your mouth. 

“I broke up with my boyfriend, well I guess he’s now my ex-boyfriend.” You say with a shrug of your shoulders. His eyes are huge. Large blue discs staring at you. “You said what?” He says to you as he caps his pen and places it in the pen holder on his desk. He pats his lap, motioning me over with that ‘Come here’ pointer finger motion. You move quickly over to him, dropping your purse in one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. He grins up at you as you round the daks and take a seat in his lap. “Tell me again.” He says as he wraps a arm your wasit to hold you tight on his lap. “I broke up with my ex.” “And how did he take it?” Darly asks, Your brows raise, and he manages to get what you’re trying to say without saying a single word. “Like a baby I’m guessing.” Daryl finishes, you nod. “His lost anyways.” Daryls adds, which makes your cheeks burn from the smile that hasn’t left your beautiful face since you arrived at the church. 

“You know how beautiful you are don’t you?” Daryl stats as he sweeps a fewstray hairs away from your face. You blush hard as your ears and cheek grow hot from his statement and his stare. You shift in his lap, and try to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the tiny bit of ache between them. “I asked you a question baby.” He says more stern, you nod as you look away from him. “Maybe I should show you just how beautiful you really are. What do you think about that?” You can’t help the way your body runs with shivers of anticipation. 

“Come on princess,” Daryl mutters as he shifts you in his lap and then swipes away from of the things on his desk to make a place for you to sit there. You wait for him to manhandle you and place you there. “Did you wear these just for me?” he asks you as his rubs his hands up and down your outer thighs. You hum with excitement and answering his questions. He looks down and sees that you wearing a pair of black flats. Slipping thoese off first before returning to the yoga pants. You help him as you arche your body, so he can slip them off just like your shoes. “You’re so sweet for me.” He says as he pushes your legs apart, and doesn’t lose time. He thumbs your clothed clit, you mewl at the sudden and strong attention to your starving cunt. 

The longer he plays with your clothes clit the more the ache grows. Building and building until you feel like you’re about to explode but then he’s letting up, and leaving you there wondering what’s about to happen next. You beg him for more, for him to start again. “Please… oh please don’t stop. Keep touching me please Daryl.” You beg him from below him. The hardwood surface is the only thing keeping you cool. Your voice strains as you bed him even more. The little touches that he’s giving you between your thighs with little kisses and licks of your skin aren’t enough anymore not when he’s already teased you with his thumb on your clit. 

“Oh princess I am touching you. I’m touching you right now.” Daryl chuckles, you roll your eyes and groan. “Be more specific love.” He says. There’s a sort of silence that takes the two over, not that he’s not touching you he’s just not where you so desperately want him. “Use your…” Your head falls back with pleasure as it hits the desk as his hand grazes up your soaked panties to lightly pass your clit. “I want your mouth on me!” You pratically scream out.  He grins a devilish grin, “See princess that’s all you had to say to me.” He says beore he dropsto his knees and widdens your legs more but not before he slips your wet panties off. They land somehwere not that you care where they are right now. 

His tongue is prodding at your weeping hole, while his thumbs stays on your now exposed clit. The touch intenisfies by a ten fold. Every rub and circle sends shockwaves through your body. One of your hands land in the messy bun of his hair as you direct him. He hums as you forced him where you desperatly need him. As he hums it sends waves of pleasure through your cunt “There she is, use me baby girl.” He mutters against your cunt. Daryl stay agasunt your wet cunt, and it doesn’t take long for you to be grinding up agasint his mouth. When you’re close you try to warn him, but he lets go of you with a pop. His chin and nose wet with your juices. “You’re so tight around my tongue baby girl.” He says as he make direct eye contact with you. He’s gasping for air, but seems to be enjoying himself between your thighs. “You cum whenever you to baby girl. I just wanna make you feel good.” he murmurs as he presses a few tiny wet kisses against your lower belly where the t-shirt had raised up. 

Giving you promise and returns Daryl is back on your cunt, enjoying his meal like he’s about to get a death penalty. It’s when your legs start to shake, and your toes curl that you know you’re done for “OH…PLease don’t stop I’m so close!” You shout and tug at his hair and pull Daryl even further into your cunt as your eyes roll into the back of your head, letting out a silent scream has your lungs burning for oxygen when you come down from your long high. 

“There she is.” Daryl mutters as you come too. His eyes are hooded with a dark pleasure. You body feels weak, but you want him all the same. “So pretty when you cum.” Daryl says as he presses his lips into yours. Oxygen be damned he consumes you and you like the taste of yourself on your tongue. When he pulls back you can see the evident hard on in his pants. You go to reach forward but are denied. “I want to fuck you don’t worry about that baby girl, but not here.” You notch your head to the side, as you look at around the office. “Then where?” You ask, he smirks down at you. “Good Girl” He mutters as he steps away from you to grab your discarded clothes and your flats. He helps you back into your clothes, and tells you to grab your purse. “Wait here while I lock the door and then we can leave.” 

It doesn’t take Daryl too long to get everything together, before he’s back at your side. And in this moment and only thing moment do you notice the difference in your age. He’s got gray hairs the are filtering through his hair, and beard. The crow feet that lays between his eyes and his forehead. But it all disappears when he grabs your hand and take you towards the same door you walked into just an hour ago. “Your car locked up?” He ask as the two of you pass by it, you nod and for extra measure you lock it waiting for the beeping noise to ringin through the empty parking lot. “Good girl.” he says to you as he opening his passenger side door for you, and then walks around to get in the drivers side. 

The drive to you assume his house is a silent one, the roads not fully empty but drained of life on a tuesday night. The stoplights cause a little panic to grow at he pit of your stomach. “Stop worrin’ baby girl.” He says softly as he reaches over and grabs your hand squeezing it gently. “I’m not worrying I just want you to get there faster, so you can fuck me already.” Your own words shock you and make you laugh. His eyes don’t leave you until a car behind you disturbed the silence of his stare on you. The light green Daryl decides it’s probably best to speed the ride to his house up a little bit.

He pulls into the drive way, and put the car in park. You’re to excited to wait for Daryl to be a gentleman and open your door for you. You bust the door open before manages to get to your side of the car. “Eager I see.” Thats all he magaes to get before you’re on his. Lips on lips. Teeth on teeth. Theres no fight for dominance you just want to taste him again. “Shit baby!” he mutters agaisnt your lips as he nearly stumbles over the steps. “I didn’t know that priest were allowed to curse.” You tease him. He rolls his, “There’s a whole lot of things you’re about to learn about me baby.” He says. Daryl practically shoves you into his house, there’s no tour not really. You might count it since you get a glimpse of most of the room, as the two of you shove each into walls to get your tongue and lips on each other. “No marks.” You remind him. “You’ve gotta keep looking innocent on the outside but nobody said I can’t ruin your insides.” Daryl comments as he opens his bedroom. 

Your clothes are littering the floor, between shoes. Your back is arche down as your head lays into mattress. Your ass high in the air, wiggling it back and forth. “Come on put it in already, Daryl. I’ve been begging for hours now.” You beg him, he groans as he jerks his cock in his hand, You spent what felt like forever preparing. You had taken his tongue again, and then two rounds of his fingers. Sinking further and further into your wet cunt. “I just don’t wanna break you.” You hear him mutters to you from behind you. “You’re not gonna break me, now just fuck me already!” You beg him once more, and when you feel the notch of his head intrude your wet, and warm hole your eyes roll. You’re stuffed and he’s not even halfway in. He’s slow deliberately slow, letting you inch and inch yourself onto his cock. Taking everything you can get until you hit the hilt of his cock. Balls slapping againt your clit. You’re overfilled and overloaded with every sense. You can feel that you’re holding your breath, and so can Daryl. 

“I’m not moving till you breath.” He says gently, that’s the last time you here a gentle demeanor come from him. Once you take your breath and let it go he’s slipping almost all the way out, and then all the way back in. A large hand grabs a fist full of your hair at the base of your neck and pulls your head of the the soft bed and up, arching your back to get even deeper and deeper within you. You moan out in pleasure, your sense are like fried wires. If anything touches you you think you might explode under the pressure. “Oh fuck sweet girlm sotight around my cock. Got me thinkin’ I’m gonna cum like a teenaged boy again. His thrusts are calculated and the way his hips hit you as you bouncing. 

The other uncuppied hand finds your jiggling tits. Sqquzing and teasing your taught nipples. He rolls one between his thumb and pointer fingers. Your head hangs back over your shoulder, and lands on his shoulder. “Daryl, you’re so… fuck so big.… feel so full.” You babble on and on, it only encourages him further. Pounding into with vigour he hasn’t felt in ages. He changes tactics, removing his hand in your haid and placing it around your waist. His large hand finding it’s place against your clit, as he feels his cock pound in and out of your cunt. “You feel me? Pounding into you?” He asks, reaching for one of your hands to place where his was. Your shock is aduioable in your voice, you can feel him pressed up against your lower tummy. It all but pushes you over the edge. “There, cum all over my cock baby it’s alright love.” He whispers into your ear. Shivering you shake your head, and counter him “Together, please together!” You beg him. “You want me?” You don’t allow him to finish his sentence, “In me please Daryl. Cum in me.” It pushes him over a water falls edges and he takes you with him. He explodes with you, as he circles your clit and kisses you till you’re both fighting for air. You collapse together on to the bed. He can feel him leave you and as he does you whine with lose. What Daryl see is a sight he never wants to loose. A thick rope of his seed leaking from your cunt and onto his sheets. He wishes he could take a mental picture of it and keep it forever, but he can’t so he opts for something else. Grabbing your panties off the floor he slips them gently back on to your ass. “What are you doing?” You ask weakly. “Keeping you nice and stuffed that all princess.” He says as he leaves to grab and wash clothes and some water for both of you. 

Breathless and tired, you look over at Daryl. “You’re so handsome.” You say shyly; even though you’ve been royally fucked within an inch of your life and cursed like a sailor, you’re still shy saying the simplest of words. “Oh, princess, you’re out of this world.” He says with a warm smile. Yet that smile is drowned out by his words. “I should be gettin’ you back to your car.” He turns to you, and you shake your head violently. “No, not yet.” You say, climbing into his lap. “Let’s just stay like this.” You mutter as you grind into him and lean down for another sweet kiss. He groans as his hands cup your ass and pull you forward. “Okay, but just a little longer, yeah.” He murmurs against your lips.

Completed on: 11/13/23

Posted on: 11/16/23

The Law-

#fluff #fem reader #female reader #requests are open #open requests #requests open #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead smut #the walking dead au #twd au #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead fic #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl twd #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon au #daryl dixon priest

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Records of forgotten times.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Old music records bring back memories and sparks talk of a new future.

~~☆☆☆~~\

Today was relaxing day in your Alexandria home.

Daryl had come home from a run and had brought home a literal truckload of items of which a couple of boxes were dropped at your place.

He busied himself moving the boxes into the living room while you continued your work in the kitchen.

"What did you bring back, Dee?" you mused from you spot in the kitchen, where you were cleaning off last night's dishes in your favorite shorts and one of Daryl's shirts that were way too large on you. It was fraying at the hem and the old classic rockband on the print was fading badly, tour dates from a long forgotten time barely recognisable anymore. He never thought twice about you stealing his shirts. They were so much more comfortable than his button downs and with the shirts smelling like him they helped you sleep when he was out on runs.

“Found an old storage place, had a bunch of boxes with music. I got first pick cuz I found ‘em.” He kept filing through the large boxes filled with records and taking each one he liked out to stack near the old record player your house came with.

“Let me have a look too when I’m done here, please?” He grumbled an agreeing response and you made sure to hurry along with your cleaning round so you could join Daryl on the living room floor.

Daryl had gotten up off the floor to fumble around with the record player and try out one of the records and to his luck it still played. He had pocketed some still boxed replacement needles and swapped the old one out before playing a Judas Priest record and got a nice, crisp sound to which he comfortably hummed along to and even sang along with some parts.

As you were hanging your cleaning rag and towel over the opened oven door to dry you mumbled along with some lyrics that had remained in the back of your head.

This surprised your dear old partner to the point of stopping entirely with what he was doing to stare at you enjoying his all time favorite band. “Ya know this music?” He sounded so confused it made you laugh. You never really talked about your old world life, never really feeling it was needed to share about it. Not until now.

“My parents were old school rockers, I grew up on this kind of music.” You had walked over and sat down at one if the boxes.

“Yer calling me old now?” Old. He hated that word, even if you were both adults he still didn’t like the sound of him being put in the same box as your late parents.

“I mean,” You started, not sure how to properly say this without being offensive. You loved Daryl and you were happy with him, really not wanting to make him uncomfortable. “I guess you’re around their age, right? Dad would have been sixty-two by now. He loved this music so much we had cabinets filled with CDs, he'd go to concerts with friends and have music nights every month. Mom woukd have been around fifty-eight I think. She preferred more symphonic stuff.” You were so caught up in your memories you had stopped looking through the music entirely, your hands shakily holding onto one record a little too tightly for Daryl’s comfort.

“I’m fifty-three, if ya really gotta know.” He had moved over to your side and put an arm around you to pry your fingers off the record. “An’ I really hope yer not secretly seein’ me as a father figure cuz I'd love it if my kid'd be one year old in about two years from now..”

You registered his comment and were pulled back into this world with a soft sob. You hoped it’d be saved for later when the sadness that these boxes brought you had blown over.

“I miss them.” Your words were barely above a whisper, but Daryl caught them all. He had managed to get the record from your hands and took a glance at the cover.

The image didn’t look all too different from the current world. A blue sky behind the ruins of a building, and a man in a rather unnatural pose on a regal looking wooden throne in the foreground. The title reading ‘A Farewell to Kings’ by RUSH.

“Yer old man listen to this?” You quietly nodded, sniffling and wiping at your tears that were now freely running down your face. He put the record aside to make a new separate pile just for you.

“Come on, let’s see what else is in here. Maybe some Ozzy. Ya like Ozzy?” You now nodded with a smile appearing on your face. “Y.. yeah, we had a dog named Ozzy. Mom liked him a lot.” The memory of the dog you had for a short while did lighten the mood a bit, thankfully.

Daryl had abandoned his search entirely and only looked through the boxes with you now, picking out records he did like and ended with almost the entire collection by Judas Priest, which you learned was his favorite.

“Oh shit, look!” You held up a copy of Mötley Crüe’s ‘Dr. Feelgood’ with an excited squeal.

“Nah, that’s what yer into? Crazy girl.” He shook his head with a loving smile. By the time you reached the second to last box you had both gathered quite the collection. Daryl had reluctantly handed you all the Crüe records he found, even if they were duplicates. You wanted to keep them because of their different covers. Even in this world you loved collecting and Daryl admired your ability to find happiness in these items.

“Hey, ya want this one too?” A Metallica record. Not one that you knew so you declined. A grumble let you know he heard you and the fwips of records being looked through continued until another one was being held in your direction. This time it was a Black Sabbath record. You took it to inspect the track list on the back and added it to your pile. “Oh! Another one, yess!” You happily pulled out an Iron Maiden album and admired the cover art, taking in all the small details.

“Ya really listen to them or just love the art?” A hand extended to hand you one more. “Ah, thanks. I like both.” You declared, staring at the next artpiece. “But I wouldn‘t be mad if these end up not playing. We could decorate with the cover arts.”

Daryl looked around the still bare walls of the house and loved your idea to make it more truly yours.

With all the boxes thoroughly searched and your collection put away you went to take the leftover boxes to the communal area for everyone else to enjoy. Seeing the other residents get so excited over music brought smiles to your faces and you went back home more satisfied than you’d thought.

“So..” You locked the front door behind you and nervously stepped over to the cabinet that held your newly acquired collection. Daryl followed your every step with a true hunter’s eye, wondering what got your nerves up all of a sudden. “Which one of these do you think has the best baby making vibes.”

“M’sorry?” No way he heard that correctly. He had convinced himself you hadn‘t heard him since you completely disregarded his comment before. “Ya sure? I mean.. I know wha’ I said but,” he stopped and couldn’t get himself to look you in the eyes. Opting for the crack in the floorboard instead. Before he had a chance to find the right words you had abandoned the record cabinet and stepped over to stand in front of him and kiss his cheek. “I love you.” You whispered before properly kissing him and making sure he got the hint that this was really what you wanted.

“But seriously, pick one. We need something loud to drown out the ..other noises.” You joked with a wink.

~~☆☆☆~~

The talk you had with Daryl that day months ago turned out to be true.

When you laid in your shared bed you spoke about the one obvious thing about your relationship and how the Alexandrians were gonna be judging you for it. When word got out about yours and Daryl’s romantic relationship you already got stares from concerned women who thouht you were being claimed by the older man. You both were way more open about your relationship now that you had a safe place to live and try to have a normal life again, but the original residents who had never gone through the horrors that you had never really let go of their old world beliefs. And now that normal life you tried to live also came with your own child shich had the staring and quiet comments becoming even worse. Uncle Daryl already had Judith, who would always make rude comments to whoever dared to speak ill of her new auntie, but now he had you and with that his own soon to be born child and he wasn't gonna let anyone ruin his happiness because of some dumb opinions.

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: This one made me cry while writing. The parents are based off my own, one of which is no longer with us. Did some painful remembering for this one.

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #twd daryl

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter twenty two

close to home | chapter twenty two

plot: the reader and her family meet Father Gabriel, and the reader confides in Daryl about what happened on the road

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,747 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: thank you for reading!!!

You woke up at dawn. The sky was a soft gray, and the stars were starting to fade. Your neck ached from the angle you slept in, and you definitely missed the couch from the house. The memory of it made you frown, and you forced yourself to sit up. 

Glenn was on watch, sitting a few yards from you and adding a log to the fire. He gave you a tired nod, and you used the boulder to help you stand. Your body was sore, and you knew that the pain medication was wearing off. But you needed to get up. You needed to move around and try to shake off the memories. 

Luckily for you, the group seemed to wake up right after you. Rick wanted everyone moving; so you could put enough distance between Terminus and the herd of walkers that ran through it. You grabbed your supplies and limbed over to Carl, who was with Tora. 

“Someone missed you,” You said to the young boy, lifting the cat and greeting her. 

Carl smiled, sliding on his backpack. “I’d like to say I’m surprised you got her out of the prison, but I’m not.”

You lightly laughed and chose not to tell him how the cat got off the prison. Instead, you shoved her in his bag, giving her a few extra rubs and zipping it up partially. “She’ll probably want to run around as we walk, but I’d like her in the bag while the sun rises.”

Carl nodded and gave you a smile before going to his father. 

The camp was wrapped up quickly, and soon you were on your way. You weren’t exactly sure where you were all going. You just hoped you’d find somewhere safe. You knew that you’d probably never have a place like the prison again, and you longed for the safety you felt there in those few months. 

During a cool-down a few miles into the trip, Carol checked on your wounds and gave you more pain medication. You thanked her quietly and drank the water Daryl kept shoving down your throat. 

By midday, you must’ve walked a good fifteen miles or so. Your body was aching, and you were starting to fall behind. 

“You good?” Daryl asked you.

You grimaced, a hand on your stab wound. “I can keep going,”

“Not what I asked,”

“I’m okay, Daryl.”

He nodded and kept a slower pace with you. “You gon’ tell me what happened?”

“Later. Alone.” You said, breathing heavily. 

Before Daryl could respond, you heard someone in the distance screaming for help. Everyone paused, and you looked towards Rick, waiting to see what he would do. He seemed not so sure himself. But Carl started asking, almost begging to go help whoever it was. Finally, he nodded, and the group and everyone started to jog. 

Daryl wrapped his arm around your waist to help you, and you both followed. The source of the screaming was a man on a rock, with a handful of walkers surrounding him. By the time you and Daryl caught up to the group, you were winded and felt like you were about to drop. You weren’t sure how long you could keep going, but you didn’t dare speak up. 

“Stay back,” Daryl said, pushing you behind him. There were enough walkers for nearly everyone to get in on the action, and within thirty seconds, they were all dead on the ground. 

Your side was starting to burn, and you leaned over, trying to alleviate some of the pain, while Rick assessed the stranger. You tried to listen to the conversation over your pain, but it was hard. You got a sense that the stranger was a priest, Rick didn’t trust him, and he seemed a little out of sorts. 

But when he said he had a church and the idea of being able to sit and rest, well, you prayed that Rick would say yes to that. But still, you didn’t want to voice it. You couldn’t put the group in danger. 

Rick looked at you, in the state that you were in, and nodded. 

“Daryl,” You whispered, catching his attention. He walked the few paces over to you and helped you stand. You didn’t need to ask. 

Before long, the group was following Gabriel to his church. Tora followed closely behind Carl, and you and Daryl held up the rear. 

When the building came into view, you wanted to cry. While the pain was getting better, it wasn’t quite manageable yet. You knew you would feel better soon with rest, food, and uninterrupted sleep. Or at least be able to walk long distances by yourself. 

You waited outside with most of the group while Rick, Glenn, Abraham, and Daryl scoped out the place. Michonne was lending her arm to you, and when Rick gave the all-clear, she helped you up the few steps and into the building. At this point, your frustration was growing, and you wanted to be able to do something by yourself. 

“Hey,” Michonne said, helping you to a pew and sitting you down. “I know this sucks, but we’re here to help you.” She said. 

You nodded and squeezed her arm. “Just not used to this.”

Michonne laughed and sat beside you, “Yeah, I’m not used to you being so helpless either.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and made yourself comfortable. You felt terrible watching everyone look over the place and ensure its safety, so you organized your bag just to do something. Before long, the church was as secure as it would get, and the priest had told Rick about some sort of food bank that had been overrun with a few dozen walkers. You wanted to volunteer, but it would’ve been stupid for you to do so. 

But after sitting for a little while and after another pain medication, you were on your feet. Rick, Michonne, Sasha, and Bob had already left, and you weren’t sure where Daryl and Carol were. But you ended up helping Carl on watch and chatting quietly about what happened to him after the prison and what happened in Terminus. 

After Tyreese took over on watch, you walked around the property and got a good look at everything. The perimeter that the newcomer Rosita made was exceptional, and you made a mental note to tell her that. Daryl said they were friends, and you wanted to ensure they knew you were a friend too. 

“You good?”

You jumped at Daryl’s voice and spun around, smiling when you saw him. “I’m better than you,” You replied sarcastically and limped over to him. 

He snorted. “They’re back. They got a lot of food.”

You nodded, letting out a deep sigh. “Where were you?”

“Carol found a car, we was gettin’ in ready in case things go south,” Daryl said. 

You nodded and walked over to the old, worn-down picnic table. You imagined the church must’ve had picnics for the congregation before all this. You used to go to stuff like this with Maggie, Beth, and your uncle. 

“I miss them,” You said, looking up at Daryl. He stared at you in his way, that typical stare he always had when he wasn’t sure what to say. You chuckled breathlessly and looked up at the blue sky. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen, and it was beautiful. 

“What happened?”

You didn’t need him to clarify. You knew exactly what he wanted to know. He’d wanted to know since he first found you yesterday. And you wanted to tell someone about it. You wanted to share the horror that it turned out to be. You wanted to tell him. 

You nodded towards the table, and Daryl sat across from you. “You remember those two girls and their father we brought in, a few weeks before the prison fell.” You couldn’t speak their names. 

“Lizzie and Mika,”

You swallowed and played with your fingers. “Well, I was out when we were attacked. I didn’t wake up… Lizzie… came to me, and she actually woke me up. She remembered I was in there. They had Judith and Tora, believe it or not,” You said. 

Daryl continued to stare at you, and you bit your fingernail. 

“Well, we ended up with Tyreese. The rest of the kids got separated. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t see it. They’re probably all dead,” You let out a shaky breath. “Anyway, it was just Tyreese and me with the three of them, and then we ran into Carol.

“We found a house to hold up in for a few days with the girls. Mika started getting really attached to me. She didn’t wanna leave my side. Carol and Tyreese went out to hunt cause Mika didn’t want me to leave. I sent them outside to play so I could… I don’t even remember what I was doing.” You said, starting to breathe heavily and feeling panic start to rise in your chest. 

“And I sent them outside. I sent them outside. And when I went outside, Lizzie… she stabbed me. And Mika was… she was on the ground. Lizzie… she killed her. She tried to kill me, and I couldn’t save Mika… I couldn’t save her.” Tears burned your eyes, and you rubbed them. 

Daryl chewed on his thumbnail for a second before he moved to sit next to you. “Not your fault, you could’n known.”

“But I made them go outside. I sent them out to go play, and if I didn’t, if I had been there….” You said through your tears. 

“You woulda killed her? To protect the others?”

You looked up at him through your teary eyes and held his gaze. “I don’t know…” You wiped your eyes. “They were so little….”

Daryl nodded and looked down at you. “You gonna pull through this.”

You nodded and wiped your tears away. “I just keep thinking of her little face.” 

“You will for a while,” Daryl said, shadows casting over his face as the sun started sinking between the trees.

Blinking away the last few tears, you leaned against his broad arm and rested your head against it. You felt him tense at the contact for a second like he usually did before he relaxed. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing into your emotions and the comfort of your best friend. 

#daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd #daryl twd #daryl x you

[theteasetwrites]

Auld Lang Syne

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: language ❧ Word Count: 2.7k

❧ Summary: It's New Year's Eve at the Commonwealth, and the festivities are in full swing, but you're not so sure you belong at this party, until someone makes you feel more welcome.

❧ A/N: Here is the last oneshot of 2022! It's been such a wild year. I will probably make a separate post thanking everyone for such a great year, but in the meantime, here's this little guy. I wanted to give 2022 the proper sendoff, and what better way than with a little NYE fic? Just some mutual pining kind of stuff. Two shy bbies dancing around their obvious attraction for each other. Also Daryl being a little bit of a dork. Oh, and I tried to kind of hint at a tragic backstory for the reader without going too in-depth because I wanted this to be a happy, simple oneshot, but I hope I got across the fact that there's actually more going on there. Anyway, happy new year!

The small apartment was roaring with the intermingling sounds of raucous laughter and the discordant choir of voices from twenty or so different conversations overlapping each other. Music blared from some unknown corner of the room, and though the voices and laughter mostly drowned it out, you could faintly hear the tune of some radio friendly pop song that you recalled being played mercilessly on repeat just a few months before the world ended.

Funny how music and films and clothing had all stayed the same, frozen in time. All the glamorous singers and pretty, smooth-skinned actors had either been killed and turned into flesh-eating monsters, or were now just trying to get by like everyone else, somewhere in some part of the world where humans hadn’t been eradicated by the walking dead. 

The end had often been called the “great equalizer,” destroying the idea of any supremacy or hierarchy that had once existed among humans, but that wasn’t the case here, in the Commonwealth. Even you knew that, and you didn’t know much, except that you could trust the greedy politicians who ran this place about as far as you could throw them. 

At least they weren’t here, you supposed. At least they were in their lofty homes, unburdened by the rabble as they partook in their own New Year’s festivities. Here in a new woman’s apartment, you stood in the corner, taking small sips of the cranberry and ginger ale punch you’d served yourself. It kept you occupied, swirling the ruby red concoction in your glass as people seemed to partner up, talking and laughing without a care in the world, for the moment.

You still were unsure why you’d been invited. After all, the woman, Carol, didn’t know you very well—you only worked together at the bakery, you having been the person in charge of training her. Still, she’d shown more, dare you say, kindness, towards you than anyone else here had. 

You’d engaged in brief conversation with her, receiving introductions to several of the new people who’d arrived from the settlement in Virginia called Alexandria. Some of them you knew vaguely—the priest called Gabriel was already well-known for his inspiring sermons; Rosita, one of the new soldiers, was always present at any big event put on by the Miltons; Eugene was an odd one, but he’d struck up awkward conversation with you when you were both in line for an ice cream cone. 

Aaron you knew best, as he’d asked you to babysit his daughter, Gracie, a handful of times when he went outside the walls. All of them were nice people, as far as you could tell, though you knew not to trust too easily, even in the Commonwealth. Especially in the Commonwealth. 

There was one man you’d yet to officially meet, however. 

He arrived later than you did, sidestepping around the crowd to get to Carol, who greeted him with open arms and a kiss upon his cheek. His hand cupped her cheek as he smiled bashfully, then stepped away to shake hands with Aaron and Gabriel. 

You’d seen him before, coming to visit Carol in the bakery. He seemed close to her, as they spoke like they knew each and every aspect of each other’s lives. You hadn’t known anyone to that extent in years. You kept it like that on purpose, of course. Opening up to people like that could be dangerous. Bad things had happened before. 

But Daryl, the man with gentle waves of chestnut hair that reached to his shoulders, and eyes of blue that were only occasionally visible between loose strands of those unruly locks, seemed kind. Brusque, but kind. 

She was lucky to have a man like that, you thought. Every time that thought came to mind, though, you shook yourself out of it. 

Daryl caught your curious eyes for just a moment, until he averted them, as did you. Still, he raised them slowly, getting a glimpse of your dress. It covered you to just above your knees, with a turtleneck collar and long sleeves. The soft, velveteen fabric shifted between dark blue and black, with a smattering of tiny sparkles embedded to catch reflections of the various colored lights that hung loosely on the walls. The small black heels strapped delicately around your ankles made your legs look longer, and he’d never seen them before, exposed in this way. It didn’t help him. He was already fond of you, from a distance. A great distance. 

Pretty, sweet, cute, nice smile, nice legs… 

Shut the fuck up. 

He’d hardly spoken a word to you, of course. He was shy, and you were perhaps even shyer. Still, he’d catch glimpses of you out of the corner of his eye, hear your voice when you’d say something to Carol during his visits… He had to admit, at first he did come to the bakery to see Carol, but after a while, it wasn’t really her he was there to see.

“You should talk to her,” Carol said, nudging his shoulder to break his trance. “She looks lonely.”

“Pfft,” he scoffed before taking a deep sip of his wine. He’d need it if he was going to get through this party. “M’sure she don’t wanna talk to me.”

Carol narrowed her eyes at the frustratingly self-deprecating man. It was so maddening to think that such a good person could think so little of himself. “But you like her, don’t you?” she prodded.

“I, uh… I don’t know ‘er.”

“Well, New Year’s Eve is about new beginnings,” she said. “You should get to know her tonight.”

“Talking about (Y/N)?” Aaron’s voice came from behind Daryl as he inserted himself into the conversation. “She’s nice. Shy, but nice. You should make a move.”

“Make a move?” Daryl repeated in confusion. 

“I mean, just… You know, talk to her.”

It suddenly occurred to Daryl that his feelings must’ve been more obvious to his friends than he’d thought. 

“Here,” said Carol, turning to grab one of the sheets of paper she’d lovingly written out by hand. “Hand her one of these. Strike up a conversation, yeah?”

He squinted his eyes at the painstakingly neat writing. The biggest three words at the top of the sheet were almost unintelligible, though, as they seemed like gibberish to him. 

“What the hell is this?”

Carol rolled her eyes. “It’s the lyrics to Auld Lang Syne.” He stared at her in confusion. “You know, the song people used to sing at New Year’s Eve, when the clock strikes twelve?”

He still had no idea what she was talking about. He’d never even been to a New Year’s Eve party, let alone cared enough to familiarize himself with the traditions.

“Just give it to her,” added Aaron, gently pushing Daryl in your direction via the hand on his shoulder. “It’s almost midnight. Fireworks are gonna start soon.”

He gently pushed his way through the small crowds that separated you from him, and when you eyed the figure of the broad-shouldered man coming your way, you quickly looked away, terrified of making eye contact, in case he hadn’t really set his eyes on you. It was hard to believe anyone would want anything to do with you here, and yet, he stopped right in front of you, holding out a white sheet of paper that caught your attention.

“H-here,” he stuttered, clearing his throat at the end of the one-word sentence. He cursed himself for being so abrupt, and not nearly as smooth and debonair as he’d hoped.

You tilted your head as you looked at him, eyes a little wide. “What?”

“Uh, here,” he repeated. “This is for you.”

“Oh.” You took the paper hesitantly, examining it cautiously. “Auld Lang Syne. Right.”

“You know what that is?”

“Yeah, just because… I was in choir for a while. We sang it at winter shows.”

He shuffled his feet nervously, chewing on his lip as he nodded his head. “What’s, uh… What’s that mean, anyway?” There was a slight chuckle to his voice. You were surprised that you caught it amidst the cacophony of noise all around you. That made you notice that, strangely, his voice reverberated above the rest. How was that possible? He was soft-spoken, despite the gruff, gravelly texture. That voice was quiet, but strong to you. 

“It means ‘times gone by,’ or something. It’s like… It’s about not forgetting the past, but looking forward to the future. That’s why they sing it at New Year’s Eve parties, you know?”

You could’ve sworn that was the most you’d spoken all night, and a part of you was terrified you’d spoken too much.

And then, it occurred to him that he hadn’t introduced himself. “I’m Daryl.” He cleared his throat again. “Seen ya at the bakery.”

“I’m (Y/N)... You always come in to see Carol.” You weren’t sure where you were going with this conversation. 

“Yeah, uh… Yeah.”

“So… you two been together long?” Wow, that’s a stupid question. You weren’t even sure why you asked that, knowing that the answer would just make the sinking feeling in your stomach that you had when you saw them together reach new lows. 

His eyes widened. “We ain’t… Nah, we’re friends.”

The relief you felt was almost shameful. The sinking feeling in your stomach was gone. “Oh,” you laughed under your breath, trying to ease the tension. “Sorry, I thought…”

Damn, he thought. Gotta stop spendin’ so much time with Carol. 

“S’fine. Anyway, I, uh, I like your dress.” He cursed himself for his conversational skills, but you smiled as a blush blossomed onto your cheeks. 

“Thanks. I like your… hair.” You shook your head immediately, letting out a deep sigh of embarrassment. “Wow, I suck at this.”

“Suck at what?” he asked, himself now blushing a little. You liked his hair, the careless mop of deep caramel locks that sprouted unceremoniously from his scalp. He’d spent a whole thirty lackluster seconds grooming his hair. Now he’d think about that all night, how you’d found his low effort hairstyle to be, dare he assume, attractive. Perhaps even… handsome?

“Conversations. Especially at parties. I’ve never been to a New Year’s Eve party before.”

“Me neither.”

You smiled again. You almost hated how easily he elicited that expression out of you. “Do you think it means anything?”

You continued to surprise yourself. Just the man’s presence seemed to make you want to talk, to open your mouth and just let whatever words were floating around in your head pour out. It was dangerous to be around him, you concluded, but it was a good kind of dangerous. It felt good.

“What?” he asked.

“The new year. Do you believe in new beginnings, stuff like that? I’m not sure if I do. That’s why I ask.”

He looked around for a moment, examining the empty air as if the answer would be there. “Well, I dunno if it all… happens at once. Just ‘cause it’s a new year don’t mean everything is gonna be different all of a sudden.” Hell, he barely even cared about what year it was going to be in a few minutes. “But I guess they can happen, if ya want it to. If ya make it happen.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I think so, too.” 

He seemed to open his mouth for a moment, as if to speak, but Carol’s voice interrupted. She had calmed down the party, announcing, “We’re going to start the countdown! Everyone get ready to sing!”

You exchanged a look with Daryl, somewhere between slight annoyance and amusement. “You ready?” he asked, slightly fixated on your eyes. He simply couldn’t look away, so much so that he hadn’t noticed the countdown had already begun. 

For your part, you held his gaze, mouth slightly agape as the others chanted eight… seven… six… 

“Five,” you finally started chanting along, still entranced by the stranger beside you. “Four…”

“Three,” Daryl joined in. 

Two, one… 

“Happy new year!”

A raucous cheer erupted from the party, with glasses clinking and couples exchanging kisses and the sound of fireworks exploding in the midnight sky. You turned excitedly, always entranced by the firework display the Commonwealth put on. 

“Look!” you said, turning to Daryl with the most enthusiasm he’d ever seen on your usually demure face. “I love the fireworks.”

He nodded. “I ain’t seen fireworks in… ten years,” he said, speaking loudly over the roar of the crowd as they celebrated the first few seconds of the new year. 

You turned to look at him, wide-eyed. “Really?” 

“Mhm.”

The vibrant colors played like stained glass over his face. Shades of red and blue danced harmoniously to form a pinkish purple, each new color that came with each new firework launched into the sky adding another layer to the painting on his face. 

You smiled so wide your cheeks began to ache, and you had no idea why. What was there to smile about? Another year in a cruel world, in a place where wealth and power and prestige reigned over all else? Whatever was beyond that wasn’t much better, you would know. You’d seen the world out there, too. You’d lived in it, done things you wished you hadn’t, seen things that still haunted your dreams and replayed in your mind every time you had to face the quiet of your life all on your own. 

But Daryl made you smile. Just feeling him beside you, knowing he thought that anyone could start over. Maybe you could, too. 

You were both lost in the air between you, heavy with anticipation and excitement. You were smiling, and he smiled, too, happy to have finally known why New Year’s Eve was such a joyous occasion, for once in his life. It never meant anything before, but now it did. He couldn’t explain it, it just did. Something good was going to happen this year, he could feel it. 

“All right, all right,” Carol’s laughing voice called out over the celebration. “Let’s sing!”

You panicked for a moment, looking between Daryl and the paper you still shakily held in your hands. “Do you have one?” you asked. 

His eyes widened, and he realized that Carol hadn’t given him a sheet of paper. Now, Carol was known for her meddling, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if maybe, just maybe, she’d purposefully given Daryl just one paper, so you and he would have no choice but to share it. 

“Uh, nah.”

You sidestepped awkwardly, clearing your throat as your shoulder touched his. You held the lyrics out before the both of you, and he caught a whiff of your perfume. Floral and woody notes combined to drown him in a momentary lapse of bliss. He hadn’t even noticed the singing had begun, and your voice triumphed over the rest. 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot? 

And never brought to mind?

He followed your finger as you guided him along the words, your laugh rolling under your singing voice, as you found his confusion quite amusing. 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot?

And the days of auld lang syne?

Voices clashed as he attempted to sing, quietly and with hardly any idea of how he was to match the melody. You could hear his voice, despite how quiet he was. Again, to you it was the loudest thing, only competing with the fireworks. 

For auld lang syne, my dear

For auld lang syne

Still, he tried to concentrate, while you knew the words by heart, so you could take the opportunity to glimpse over at the clueless man, clumsily trying to get the words right, and stumbling over them with his endearingly off-key singing.

We'll drink a cup of kindness yet

For the sake of auld lang syne

Between the spaces of people crammed into the tiny apartment, there was a sense of hope. It was small, and uncertain, but it was hopeful, nevertheless. Whatever the new year would bring, it would be a chance to start over, to think fondly of the past while welcoming the future. 

In that moment, you felt at peace, and happier than you’d been in a very long time. When the night was over, you knew that it wasn’t really over. It was just the beginning. 

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Masterlist

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus x you #norman reedus fanfic

[thefreakydeaky]

After the Thrill is Gone

Part Fifteen

Negan Smith x Reader

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Modern AU

Summary: From the first moment you laid eyes on Negan you were inexplicabley drawn to him. The passion between you is hot and only grows more intense the longer you see each other. There is only one problem, you're both married to other people.

Warnings: Dark Fic , Rape/Noncon, Violence, Stalking, Stalker behavior, Smuttyness, Adult Language...

You chewed on another antiacid tablet as you pulled up into the parking lot at Hunter's school. To your surprise, you received a call that morning from the Principal, Father Moser about some behavorial issues that Hunter had been having. You could not believe this was happening. Hunter was your good kid. He was a rule follower, who thrived in a structured environment. Hunter was the kid that called people sir and mam without having to be reminded to. He was the kid that helped you around the house because he simply enjoyed being helpful. You couldn't imagine what he could be doing that was bad enough to have the principal ask you to come in for a meeting. Daryl arrived nearly at the same time you did, parking his old suburban next to your midsize suv. You got out of the car. Daryl got Millie out of her car seat and the three of you headed up to the front office.

"Any idea what this is about?" He asked you as you sat waiting on a bench outside the primary office.

You shook your head.

"I don't have the slightest idea. He's been acting normal."

Daryl nodded.

"Yeah, I think so too."

"Mister and Misses Dixon." The old man's voice, held warmth in it as he greeted you. "Just the people I needed to see."

You smiled.

"Hello, Father."

Daryl shook his hand.

"Father, I just don't understand. What kind of trouble is Hunter in?"

"Why don't we talk inside my office?" Father Moser suggested. He gestured toward the big shining maple wood door.

Your husband let you be the one to go further into the office and sit in the seat closest to the window. Daryl, still holding Millie sat in the seat on your right side. Father Moser closed the door to his office. You frowned. That was a bad sign.

He went and sat on the otherside of the big expensive looking desk. He looked at you for a moment and then at Daryl. You felt he was measuring your emotional and mental state.

"There is no easy way to say this." He said folding his hands in front of him. "Hunter has gained a new vocabulary as of late. One that has piqued the interest of our other students and started a chain reaction of sorts."

Daryl's brow furrowed.

"One word in particular, the F word seems to be his favorite."

Your face heated with embarrassment.

"Father, are you sayin' that Hunter is cursin'?"

The priest nodded.

"Yes. Yes, he is and we have received complaints that other students are learning those words from him and adding them to their own vocabularies."

"Complaints? From other parents?" You asked ashamed.

"Yes, angry parents. Understandabley so."

"We are so sorry, Father. We make a point not to use that type of language. I don't know where he's learning it from, but I will find out and I will have a talk with him." Daryl replied.

"We are going to have to use a punishment to correct this behavior. Please explain to him that his suspension is a consequence of the new words he is using to express himself. We'll be happy to have him back, when he has learned not to use them on school grounds."

You nodded.

"We will talk with him." Daryl assured him.

"I am glad to hear it." He took in your expression. "Please, don't be too hard on yourselves. Hunter is a bright boy. He works hard and does well. In any case, this isn't the first time such a thing has ocurred at our school and I'm sure it won't be the last." He said good naturedly.

You smiled politely.

"Thank you, Father." Daryl said and got up and shook his hand.

You shook the priests hand and left the office right behind Daryl. You found Hunter sitting on the bench beside the front office.

"We have got a lot to talk about young man." Daryl told him.

Hunter frowned.

"You're taking me home?"

"You've been suspended." You told him.

His eyes widened.

"For what?" He asked as you walked back to the car.

"For cursing." Daryl replied.

Hunter frowned.

When you got Millie and Hunter situated in the car, Daryl shut the door to the backseat.

"I know it's you." Daryl accused, once you were alone in the parking lot.

You raised an eyebrow.

"Me?" You asked confused.

"Where he's learned that language from. It's you.

"Why would you think that?" You scoffed.

"Because, Millie learned a new word too and if it ain't me teaching them then it's you."

You couldn't help, but wince when he mentioned Millie cursing.

"I may have accidentally said one word in front of Millie. It was one time and she latched onto it. I'm sorry, but I swear it was just the one time."

Daryl shook his head.

"We'll talk about it later." He gave you a disappointed look.

You watched him get into his suburban before you got into your own car. You couldn't believe he was so upset with you. It wasn't as though you cursed in front of your children all the time. You didn't even know where Hunter could have heard that kind of language except for Millie. You sighed as you got into your car.

•••••••

"You been suspended, because you're using words you're not supposed to use." Daryl explained to his son.

Hunter ducked his head.

"What words?" He asked.

"You know which words." You said sternly.

"But Mom says them."

"Mom's not supposed to say 'em either." Daryl shot you a disapproving look. "Hunter, you can't speak that way. Not in this house and not at school."

Hunter frowned.

"But why?"

"Because it is disrespectful and not polite." You explained.

"Then why do you say them?"

"I'm not supposed to say them. It is just as bad when I do it as when you do it."

"Mom is not gonna say those words no more. Alright? And neither are you."

Hunter seemed to think about it for a second.

"What about Millie?"

"We need your help to teach Millie not to say those words either."

Hunter nodded.

"Okay. I can help."

"Alright, Thank you , Son." Daryl took away his hand held gaming device for the two days that Hunter was suspended. Hunter found this to be an awful punishment, but his respect for his father and desire to be well behaved left him no choice, but to comply.

When you laid down under your covers that night, Daryl turned to face you.

"Hunter said he heard you cursing. I'd get it if it was one slip up, but it didn't sound that way."

You turned onto your side.

"I'm sorry. I'll work on it."

You lay there in the quiet for a moment.

"What were you cursing about?"

You swallowed nervously.

"Telemarketers. They won't stop calling."

Daryl stared at you in the dark.

"Is it telemarketers or is it Him?"

You fought to keep your expression neutral.

"Uh, who?"

"Don't do that." He said your name. His tone held a note of pleading.

"Let's be honest for once.I know you're cheatin' on me."

You couldn't even react. You were in shock.

"I...I was, but I ended it. I tried to end it."

"For how long?" His voice was pained.

You took a breath.

"Four years."

"Years?"

"Yes.

"What do you mean? You tried to end it?"

"I don't know how to get rid of him. He won't leave me alone."

"Yeah, well, after four years I'm sure he had a hard time believin' you actually wanted to end it. If you really did."

"I did! I do!"

"You know, when Rick suggested I look through your phone, I was against it, but when I found out you were leavin' the kids with your Mom or with Ma a lot, more often than you ever told me about, I started to wonder where you were goin' that you couldn't take the kids with you."

"You, looked through my phone?"

Daryl sighed.

"I let Rick track your location. He told me you kept goin' to the motel off the highway. That's when I knew. I started thinkin' about what was missin' in our relationship that you went out lookin' for it somewhere else."

"That's when you told me you wanted to work on our relationship?"

He nodded.

"But even though you agreed, you kept goin' back to the motel.So, I followed you."

Your eyes widened.

"You followed me?"

"Yeah. A few months back I was out of my mind angry. I wanted to...to kill the bastard."

"Daryl!"

"I love you and it just fuckin' hurt so much."

You wanted to reach out and touch him, but you knew it wouldn't bring him comfort. You clenched your hands into fists.

"I had my gun sittin' on the seat next to me. I was just waitin' for you to leave. So, I could get him alone."

"Oh, God."

Your eyes filled with tears.

"But you came out of there before I was expectin' ya to and you had this look on your face. I got a feelin' that it was over. That someone had ended it. I just didn't know if the decision was yours or his. That snapped me out of it. I went to talk to Rick. Let him talk me down some. Then I drove around for a while to clear my head."

Tears started spilling down your cheeks.

"I watched you for signs that it was really over and I believed it was. Until Rick told me that you went to the motel again."

You shook your head.

"To talk. To convince him to leave me alone." You lied. If Daryl had been about to shoot Negan for the affair you shuddered to think of what he would do if you told him about that day, about what Negan had done to you.

"To talk? Why in a motel room?"

"I thought I was being descrete. More than anything, I wanted to keep you and the kids out of it and if I met him somewhere public, I didn't feel that would be protecting you."

"You said, you been seein' him for four years. What about Millie?" He asked nervously.

"I don't know." You wiped at the tears on your face, annoyed with yourself. "We would have to, get a paternity test."

Daryl swallowed.

"I need to know."

You nodded in understanding.

#negan x reader #negan smith x reader #jeffrey dean morgan #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #norman reedus #twd reader insert

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [5] FROM A FRIEND

Daryl Dixon x oc!charlie reed

Summary: The group’s existence became even more challenging. If a gift from a stranger raised their suspicions, they weren’t ready for what was going to happen after storm.

Warnings: none?

Song:

Words: 4.054

A/N: Carl isn’t in love with Charlie - just a quick disclaimer if you have any doubts.

As the group walked down the worn path, fatigue weighed heavy on their shoulders, each step a struggle against exhaustion. Rick led the way, his eyes heavy with weariness but determination. The sun beat down mercilessly, casting harsh shadows across the cracked pavement. Sweat beaded on their brows, disappearing almost as soon as it appeared, leaving behind only a parched thirst that seemed impossible to bear. Their throats were dry, their stomachs empty, and there was no time to rest. But with each passing mile, hope seemed to slip further and further away, replaced by an ever-present sense of desperation.

Charlie's mind drifted back to that fateful day. They had watched helplessly as the infection spread, as Tyreese's strength waned, and as his time on this earth grew shorter with each passing moment. With tears in her eyes and a heavy heart, Michonne had raised her katana, the blade gleaming in the dim light of their makeshift shelter. Charlie had wanted to look away, to shield herself from the brutality of what was about to unfold, but she couldn't tear her eyes away, couldn't escape the harsh reality of their world. At least Michonne could pick up the weight from her shoulder and do the final stab - for the first time, Charlie could just grieve.

Then Charlie looked at Daryl's back, she felt a pang of sadness wash over her. His once warm and comforting presence now seemed distant, his silence cutting deeper than any word could. It was a void, leaving her feeling more alone than ever before. But try as she might, she couldn't reach him, couldn't break through the icy barrier. And so, she walked behind him in silence, the weight of his indifference heavy on her shoulders. Each step was a struggle, each moment filled with a longing that seemed impossible to fulfill.

"Hotter than yesterday," Gabe said. She looked at him as be appeared next to her out of nowhere.

Silence.

"I would kill for a cup of cold lemonade," he said when he didn't get the answer. "But...got to be happy for what we have. A sip of water."

"Well," Charlie said. "You're wasting it on talking."

"That's my nature," ha said. "I think that's why I became a priest. I like to talk."

"Then stop," she cut him short.

"I know you're still angry with me, and I understand why," he said.

"Good."

"I made a mistake," he nodded. "A big one. And I can't change that. But I want to make things right, Charlie."

"Good luck."

"Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors."

"We've all got our debts to settle in this world, but forgiveness ain't always easy to come by," she said with a heavy heart. "You gotta earn it, just like you earn your keep out here."

The road stretched out before them like a ribbon of cracked asphalt. The air was thick with dust, carried on a hot, dry breeze that offered no relief from the relentless sun beating down upon them. Not a drop of water could be seen for miles, the ground cracked and parched beneath their feet. They were waking fast enough to not be caught, but slow enough to be mistaken with the Walkers.

As the small herd of walkers approached, the group fell into a tense silence, their movements slow and deliberate as they prepared to confront the oncoming threat. Each member of the group knew the importance of conserving energy, of not wasting a single ounce of strength in the face of danger. With weapons drawn, they moved forward with caution, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. The walkers drew closer, their rotting forms swaying eerily in the hot breeze, their moans echoing through the still air.

As Charlie glanced around the group, her eyes lingered on Sasha, noting the subtle shifts in her demeanor that seemed out of place. There was a tension in Sasha's shoulders, a stiffness in movements that hadn't been there before. It was as if she was carrying a burden too heavy to bear, one that threatened to consume her from within.

Charlie couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of her stomach as she watched Sasha, her instincts telling her that something was not right.

"Sasha," Charlie tried not to scream. With a fierce cry, Sasha charged forward, her weapon raised high, ready to strike. She moved with a fluid grace, her movements honed by years of experience and survival in this unforgiving world. Each swing of her blade was precise.

"Stay in line. Flank her," Rick commanded. "Keep it controlled."

"Plan just got dicked."

Charlie found herself caught in the dangerous whirlwind of her friend's rage. Desperate to stop Sasha from making a fatal mistake, Charlie lunged forward, reaching out to grab her arm. Sasha's blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. With horror, Charlie realized too late that she was directly in its path. Time seemed to slow as the blade neared her, a sickening realization dawning upon her that she might not escape unscathed. Just as the blade was about to strike, Sasha's eyes widened in horror as she registered Charlie's presence. Charlie stood frozen in shock, her heart still pounding in her chest, the realization of how close she had come to death sinking in.

"Stop. Just get out of here," Charlie said when she grabbed her friend's arm, but the other girl just pushed her away. Sasha stumbled forward, her legs heavy with fatigue, so Charlie used the moment and pushed her best friend, kicking her weapon out of her hand. "I told you to stop."

As Sasha's firm stare bore into Charlie's soul, she braced herself for what she thought would be a confrontation, a moment of reckoning for their near-death experience. But instead of words, Sasha simply turned on her heel and walked away, her expression unreadable.

As Charlie watched Sasha walk away, a wave of understanding washed over her, mingled with a profound sense of loss. She knew that Sasha had lost her brother, that the pain of that loss weighed heavily on her heart, just as the absence of Tyreese weighed heavily on Charlie's own. But even in her grief, Charlie knew that she couldn't dwell on the past, couldn't let the pain of loss consume her - what's more, she wouldn't let her friend die.

The group stumbled upon the abandoned cars scattered along the roadside, a glimmer of hope flickered in their weary hearts. With a sense of urgency, they began to search the cars, their hands moving quickly as they rifled through the empty compartments and glove boxes. But their hopes were dashed as they found nothing but dust and bottles, the cars stripped bare of any useful supplies.

"I'm gonna head into the woods, circle back," Daryl said to Rick.

With determination burning in her chest, Charlie turned to Daryl, her voice steady despite the uncertainty that gnawed at her insides. "Can I come with you?"

"No," he almost growled at her and without even a glance, he passed her by.

Charlie felt a pang of frustration and hurt pierce through her chest. For a moment, she stood rooted to the spot, her mind swirling with a whirlwind of emotions. She couldn't understand why Daryl would push her away like this. She had thought that they were a team, that they would face their challenges together, but now she couldn't help but feel like an outsider, like her presence was unwanted and unneeded.

The group sat in the middle of the road, exhaustion weighing heavy on their shoulders like a blanket. Charlie's limbs felt heavy and sluggish as the hot sun beat down upon her. Her stomach growled with hunger, a constant reminder of the empty void. Thirst burned in her throat, a dry, parched sensation that made every swallow feel like swallowing sand. She licked her cracked lips, desperate for just a drop of water to ease the torment, but there was none to be found.

"So all we found is booze?" Tara asked.

"Yeah."

"It's not gonna help," Tara said quietly, looking at Abraham. He sat hunched over, his hands trembling as he was bringing the bottle of whiskey to his lips. His eyes, once filled with determination and fire, now appeared empty and tired.

"Yeah, he knows that," answered angry Rosita.

"It's gonna make it worse," Tara said once again.

"Yes, it is."

"He's a grown man," Charlie said. "And I don't know if things could get any worse."

"They can," Rosita said, looking past Charlie.

Charlie's heart raced as she glanced back over her shoulder, her senses on high alert for any sign of danger. In the distance, she spotted movement, a dark shape coming towards them with speed. At this point she was ready to just wait for death as she had no strength.

At first, she thought they were Walkers; however, it was even worse. A pack of rabid dogs surged forward, their eyes wild with hunger and madness. Their snarls echoed through the air, sending a chill down Charlie's spine as she realized the true nature of the threat. The group found themselves faced with a grim choice: eat or be eaten. With no other source of food in sight and the threat of starvation looming over them, they reluctantly turned to the only option available to them - and the choice felt like a full stomach.

Glenn's face had the biggest grimace of disgust, resignation, and hunger. He was battling himself to convince his own body to take the first bite.

"Bon appétit," he quipped half-heartedly. Charlie was observing his face falling in even deeper disgust than before.

"See? Not so bad, right?" Charlie said, offering him a small smile of encouragement.

"Mmm, tastes just like chicken," he quipped, though the words tasted like ash on his tongue. "Or...maybe not."

"It's not that bad."

"Who would have thought?" Glenn looked at her. "Back in the quarry you couldn't even stand next to dead squirrels. And now? Eating dogs. What happened?"

The truth was that she couldn't remember the last time her stomach was full like this. It was disgusting and morally wrong, but to be honest: what wasn't in a world they were living? Charlie just tried to forget about what she was eating and focus on the feeling it made her feel.

"Don't mention the squirrel," she warned him. "Let's just think of it as a culinary adventure," she added, waving her hand theatrically. "We're like food explorers. Anthony Bourdain would be proud."

Glenn chuckled, taking a bite of his portion. "The taste of the end of the world."

Charlie's gaze fell upon Noah, sitting alone and untouched by the meal that had sustained the rest of the group, a pang of concern tugged at her heartstrings and her light smile dropped. She could see the weight of grief and loss etched into his features, the haunted look in his eyes betraying the pain he carried within.

With determination to help him, she closed the distance that was between them and without a word, sat down close to him. "Are you another person that needs to be convinced to eat?"

"You all tried to help me," Noah said to Charlie.

"Yeah, and?"

"One of your people got killed," he said.

"People die all the time," she shrugged.

"I don't know if I'm gonna make it."

"Then you won't," she said and placed down her piece of meat. Surprise flickered across Noah's features. Of course, she wanted to help him, but she wouldn't sit and cry with him - there was no time for that. They had no place to live, no water, no food. It wasn't the time to cry after the dead ones. "Don't think. Just eat."

"But it's a dog," he grimaced.

"It's a meat," she patted his leg. "Come on. I won't carry you on my back, when you lose your strength."

He sighed and shook his head. Finally, taking a small bite of his ration.

"How's your leg?"

"Would be better without all this walking."

"I bet."

"And how are you?" Noah asked her.

As Noah's question hung in the air, Charlie's mind raced with a flurry of conflicting emotions. She knew that Noah was struggling, that his question was more than just a casual curiosity, but she wasn't sure how to respond. Should she tell him the truth, share her own fears and doubts, or should she offer a comforting lie, a reassurance that everything would be okay? She knew that words alone couldn't erase the pain and suffering they had endured, but she also knew that sometimes, a kind word could make all the difference.

"I'm good," Charlie answered. "I'm always good."

It was another long walk. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon. Charlie, lagging behind the others, dragged her feet with a heavy sigh, exhaustion palpable in every step. Each day seemed to blend into the next, a relentless cycle of survival and despair.

Charlie glanced around at her companions, their faces worn, mirroring her own fatigue. They had been through so much together—battles fought, losses, hope disappearing with each passing day. But now, as they pressed on, the weight of their journey bore down on him like never before.

Rick called out, slowing his pace to match Charlie's. "You okay?"

Charlie forced a weak smile, though it faltered under the weight of her weariness. "Yeah, Rick, I'm fine. Just... feeling a bit... lost, I guess."

Rick clasped Charlie's shoulder, a silent promise passing between them. "We'll find it, Charlie."

As Rick and Charlie trudged along, something in the middle of the road something- several bottles lying abandoned - reflected off the surface. Charlie's exhaustion momentarily forgotten, she quickened her pace to reach the bottles first, her heart pounding with anticipation. Rick followed close behind, his senses alert for any sign of danger.

As they approached, it became clear that the bottles were filled with water—crystal clear and untouched by the ravages of time.

FROM A FRIEND

"We don't know who left it," Rick said and caught Charlie by her arm.

"If that's a trap, we already happen to be in it," Charlie said and turned to Grimes.

The man, who was rather silent, said, "I, for one, would like to think it is indeed from a friend."

"What if it isn't? They put something in it?"

"Eugene!" Rosita called.

"What're you doing?"

"Quality assurance."

Abraham took a single step forward, but before he could react, Charlie swiftly pushed the bottle of water away from Eugene. The impact sent water splashing everywhere, drenching Eugene's entire face in an instant.

As the first drops of rain began to fall, the group erupted in laughter, their faces upturned to the sky as they welcomed the refreshing touch of the storm. Charlie and Rosita lay down on the road, their bodies warmed by the contrast of the cold water against their heated skin. The laughter echoed around them, mingling with the rhythm of the raindrops.

But as the storm intensified, a distant rumble announced the approach of thunder, its deep resonance a reminded the group that it wasn't safe to stay outside.

With the storm still raging around them, the group pressed on, their footsteps squelching in the mud as they followed Daryl towards the barn he had discovered. The wind whipped through the trees, sending branches swaying and rain cascading down in torrents, but they forged ahead, guided by the promise of shelter. As they reached the weather-beaten structure, Daryl pushed open the creaking doors, revealing a dim interior illuminated only by flashes of lightning. The group huddled inside, grateful for the respite from the relentless downpour.

The air inside the barn was musty and thick with the scent of damp hay, but it offered a temporary refuge from the elements. With weary sighs, they settled in, finding whatever dry patches they could on the rough wooden floor. Charlie lowered herself onto the dusty floor of the abandoned building, her tired muscles protesting with each movement. She settled down beside Carl, who looked up and smiled.

For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the only sound the steady rhythm of rain against the windows.

"You seem lost in thought," Charlie remarked, breaking the silence. "Everything okay?"

Carl sighed, his expression clouding with a mixture of weariness and uncertainty. "Sometimes it feels like it's never going to end."

"It's hard to imagine a future when every day is a struggle just to survive."

"But it's worth it, right?" he asked, caressing back of his sister. "For her."

"You're right, Carl," Charlie said softly, her voice filled with conviction. "We can get through anything."

Carl offered a small smile, a flicker of hope lighting up his tired eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, we can."

With a groan Charlie laid down on the hard floor, which didn't go unseen by a certain person. "Maybe you would like to lay on my..."

"No, thank you," she cut Daryl shortly and turned her back to him. Carl looked up at the man and then at Charlie. He placed down his sister on the ground, so she could lay on her blanket, and they he laid down himself. As they lay side by side, the flickering fire casting shadows across the dimly lit room, Carl turned to Charlie, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Are you mad at Daryl? He did something to you?"

Charlie looked at the boy, her eyes drifted away from the little girl, whose back she caressed. “Why?”

"I don't know... It just seems like there's some tension between you two lately. Ever since we found Beth..."

"I'm not mad at Daryl, Carl," Charlie replied honestly, her voice tinged with regret. "I'm just... frustrated, I guess. Frustrated that we're all struggling so much."

Carl nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I get it. It's hard when everyone's under so much stress."

"Yeah," Charlie agreed with a sigh. "But I know Daryl's just doing what he thinks is best for the group, even if we don't always see eye to eye," she answered and then smiled lightly. "Do you worry about me?"

"Of course I worry about you, Charlie," he answered. "You're a special someone. I love you."

Charlie's heart swelled with emotion at Carl's words, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. It wasn't always like that between them, and she regretted this every day, but he became someone she had sworn to protect and guide through the hardships. With tears glistening in her eyes, Charlie reached out and gently ruffled Carl's hair, a tender gesture of love and acceptance. "I love you too, Carl," she murmured. "Come here."

Charlie and Carl nestled closer to each other, their fatigue finally overcoming them. With gentle snores escaping their lips, they drifted into the realm of dreams, their worries momentarily forgotten in the embrace of sleep.

It was still dark when she stirred from her sleep, senses instantly alert to the sound of the rambling doors and the guttural snarls that echoed through the room. With a jolt of adrenaline coursing through her veins, she sprang into action, her eyes darting around the dimly lit space until they landed on Daryl, struggling to close the doors against the onslaught outside.

Rushing to his side, Charlie grabbed hold of the heavy wooden doors, her muscles straining against the weight as she joined Daryl in his efforts. Soon, the rest of the group sprang into action, joining Charlie and Daryl in holding the doors closed against the growing horde. Hands gripped tightly on the handles, bodies pressed together in a united front, they braced themselves against the force of the wind and the relentless onslaught of the walkers, determined to keep them at bay no matter the cost.

Time seemed to blur as they stood together, fueled by the knowledge that they were not alone in this fight—that together, they could overcome even the greatest of challenges.

It was the morning already. As Charlie's eyes fluttered open again, she found herself stirred from her slumber by the sound of voices murmuring nearby. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she felt something heavy on her shoulders. She tried to feel it and it turned out that a similar cloth was on her body - Daryls poncho. Then she slowly turned on her back and looked up, without getting up.

"He was tough."

"He was."

"So was she," Daryl said. "But she didn't know that."

Charlie laid still on the floor, her eyes closed as if she were still lost in the embrace of sleep. With each passing moment, she listened intently to the voices that drifted through the air, piecing together fragments of conversation as she tried to gauge the mood of her companions. Though her body remained motionless, her mind raced with thoughts and questions, a silent observer to the unfolding scene.

"Stop punishing her," Maggie said. "You think she's tough, but..."

As Charlie waited for further conversation, a sense of unease began to gnaw at her insides. The silence stretched on, broken by steps. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw it—a shadowy figure standing before her. Startled, Charlie looked up and found herself face to face with Maggie, her expression unreadable in the dim light of the room.

Without a word, Maggie gestured towards a small box resting on the floor beside her. Confused, Charlie's gaze flickered between Maggie and the box, her curiosity piqued by the mysterious exchange.

She met Maggie's eyes and the woman nodded towards sleeping Sasha. Charlie furrowed her brows.

As the golden hues of the setting sun bathed the world in a warm glow, Charlie found herself standing beside Sasha, their faces turned towards the horizon. Together, they watched as the sun rising, painting the sky in shades of pink, orange, and purple. With each passing moment, the colors brightened.

"Why are we here?"

"For this," she said and pointed at the horizon with her chin. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"I heard it. Noah, that kid...he said he didn't know if he can make it," Sasha said. "That's how I feel."

"You're gonna make it," Charlie said. "Both of us. And Noah. We will. That's the hard part."

"I always had my brother."

"Me too," Charlie said looking at the landscape, thinking about her siblings. "They were always for me, even when I didn't want them to be," she said with shaking breath. "And I don't even know if they are buried. Sometimes every walker has their faces," she confessed. "And it's hard. But I have you...and you have me."

Sasha squeezed her hand. "I didn't know..."

Charlie just shook her head before speaking again.

"Maggie gave it to me," she said and opened the box, seeing a pink fairy ballerina, changing the subject.

As Charlie carefully opened the box, her heart filled with anticipation. Inside, nestled among a few trinkets and mementos, she found a small music box—a precious relic from a bygone era. But as she released the winding key and waited with bated breath, there was only silence. The music box remained still. They laughed as it was still broken.

"I guess it's like us," Sasha said.

"Broken."

Both young women fell into a laughter.

"Hey. Hi."

In an instant, the jovial atmosphere evaporated, replaced by tense silence as their laughter died out and smiles faded from their faces. Like a coiled spring, the group's instincts kicked in, and they swiftly raised their guns, pointing them at the man who had suddenly appeared before them.

The air crackled with tension as they sized up the stranger, their expressions hardened and wary. Every nerve in their bodies was on edge, ready to react at the slightest sign of danger.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," he said. "Good morning. My name is Aaron. I know, stranger danger. But I'm a friend. I'd like to talk to the person in charge," he explained with a smile. "Rick, right?"

"How do you know?"

"Why?"

"I have good news," he nodded with even wider smile.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl the walking dead #daryl twd #daryl x reader

[darkerthanyouthink]

My friend said that Daryl Dixon from TWD looks like Julian Priest from The Hunger series and now I can't unsee it

[celtic-crossbow]

Whumpuary Day 3-4

Prompt: Collapse

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of previous injury; Aftermath of Injury; Symptoms of illness

Daryl had been acting strange all day. It was his first day out of bed since he’d taken a bullet to the leg on a particularly violent run for medical supplies. He’d been a terrible patient, always trying to get up and hobble his way along on future runs or sneak out to help with patrol or community upkeep. When he awoke from a nap you’d yelled at him to take, you had literally handcuffed him to the bed railing. He agreed to behave after that and, to his credit, he did. 

You still worried that attending the council meetings and visiting improvement sites was too much for his first day out. Of course, he waved off your concern with a muttered “m’fine” before nodding that he was ready for the next meeting. Even Gabriel seemed to not buy it, glancing at you for confirmation. You shrugged. There wasn’t much you could do to deter the man. 

The last meeting was the longest with discussion of resources, rationing, and assigning runs, patrols, and inventory counts. You spoke up once to remind everyone that Daryl would not be available yet for runs or patrol, much to his chagrin. You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head. You’d get an earful later but it didn’t change what you had already made clear, so a verbal smackdown from the archer would be taken in stride. You winced when it was decided he would not take part in inventory as well. Everyone wanted him healthy. Like you, they were unwilling to take risks. 

“Then this meeting is adjourned.” Gabriel gathered up the maps and lists with a tight smile, joining others in conversation while the small group filed out of the building. 

You were still staring where the priest had previously been stationed, knowing Daryl had yet to leave as well. The silence was deafening and the tension suffocating. The archer despised when you made calls for him, no matter how good the intentions behind it. His blunt nails began to drum against the wooden tabletop. 

“I love you.” You said first, then turned to find him leaned back in the chair, one hand on his thigh while the other continued a tuneless cadence with the tips of his fingers. Those pretty blue eyes were narrowed and angry. “Come on, Daryl. Someone’s gotta look out for you.” He looked tired. You just wanted to get him home to rest, even if he grumbled at you the entire way. 

“Been lookin’ out fer myself since I’s a kid. Don’ need ya ta do it now.” 

“You know what I mean. Stop being that way.” You pouted, feeling suddenly insignificant. The way he scoffed while pushing the chair back only fueled your insecurities. “Daryl.”

“M’goin’ home. Got a bed needs watchin’.” He clicked his tongue and whistled for Dog, getting to his feet, stepping around the table, and walking away from you. 

You slumped in the chair under a veil of utter defeat. Things would smooth over, but you’d hurt him, took shot after shot at his pride when he was already struggling after the injury. You could still see him moving away, but looked up when his footfalls came to a halt. Maybe he was already regretting walking away. 

Standing from your chair, you took one step when Dog whined and Daryl collapsed to the floor in an unmoving heap. 

“Daryl!” You didn’t bother with walking around and vaulted over the table, sliding to your knees behind him. You were shouting for help while rolling him onto his back. He was breathing, shallow but otherwise normal. He was pale, a minute difference that was just enough to notice. Fingers against his neck, you were counting the beats when Gabriel, Michonne, and Siddiq barreled inside. 

“What happened?” The swordswoman asked, soothing the nervous canine.��

“He just went down. Heartrate’s low.” Your panic was betrayed by the calm you were able to maintain. Michonne was watching the tremble in your hands wordlessly. 

Siddiq knelt across from you. He felt of the archer’s forehead, the skin cool and clammy. “How low?”

“Forty-three.” Your voice cracked. The medic hummed, his face neutral. 

“Can you help me carry him to the infirmary?” He asked Gabriel. The priest nodded, acting immediately. You scooted aside when he reached for your partner, fighting the sting behind your eyes. You had panicked enough for the entire community when they had hauled Daryl in those several days ago, his head hanging and pant leg saturated with blood. Siddiq had ordered you removed from the room when you should have been helping with the surgery to remove the bullet. 

You scrambled to your feet to follow, the other woman’s hand coming to rest on your shoulder. 

“Anything happen before he collapsed?”

You shifted from foot to foot, shame taking panic’s hand. “We argued a little.” The floor became mighty interesting. You knew he wasn’t feeling well and provoked him anyway, not allowing him to speak for himself as if he were a child that didn’t know any better than to push his limits. “It’s his first day up since it happened and he worked himself ragged. He was tired, looked it too. I just, I wanted…” you trailed off with a sniffle. 

“You were trying to protect him.” She supplied, smiling gently when you nodded. “Y/N, men have the most fragile egos. Sometimes, you’ll just need to let him make the decisions and hope he doesn’t fall.”

“But what if he does?” You irritably wiped away a stray tear.

She closed her eyes, expression fond. She was thinking of Rick. “Then you catch him.”

Daryl was awake when you arrived, but had his head lowered. Siddiq patted the hunter’s knee and left the room to meet you just outside. “Blood pressure was eighty-nine over fifty-six. What can you tell me about his day? I know Daryl and he tends to leave out details if he thinks it’ll get him an all clear.”

You glanced in the room to find your archer still staring at his lap, worrying the side of his thumb between his teeth. “He did way too much for his first day. He was physically helping out and then going to every meeting. I barely got him to stop long enough for lunch or even some water. We, uh, we argued a bit about me answering for him at the last meeting.” You could feel the man watching you, finding kindness rather than judgment when you gathered enough courage to meet his eyes. 

“The good news is that I really don’t think it’s anything serious. My best guess without being able to run any tests is vasovagal syncope.”

“Dumb it down for me.” You chuckled, sparing yet another glance into the room. 

“Basically his body was reacting to stress after being cooped up in bed for so long. I assume he fell after standing up?” You nodded. “The movement caused a sudden drop in blood pressure and heartrate. Most people faint when it happens.”

“So what do I do?” 

“Make sure he gets up slowly. I’ve started an IV to give him fluids as a precaution but make sure he’s taking in water and eating, even if it’s something small. Avoid stress until we can acclimate him back to the activity level he’s used to.”

You sighed. “He’s gonna love it when I tell him that.”

“You’re off the hook. I already told him.” He gave your upper arm a squeeze. “As soon as those fluids are in, you can take him home.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and squeezed his hand before it fell away and he stepped out of the infirmary altogether, leaving you and Daryl to talk. The hunter knew you were there, you didn’t need any special indications to tell you that much. “Hey.” You said quietly. 

He lifted his head and tried for a smile, managing a quick upturn of one side. He knew you were right to have hovered and was trying to figure out how to apologize. You could read him like a book. Your steps hardly made a sound crossing the space that separated you from him. The thin hospital mattress dipped with your weight. 

“You feel okay?” You kept your tone relaxed, petite fingers combing through the dark hair that hung like a curtain next to his face. He nodded but didn’t look up. “Siddiq said you can go home when those are done.” You indicated the bag hanging above the head of the bed. “You hungry? Thought I could do a vegetable stew as long as Michonne still has some carrots.”

“Not gon’ say ‘I told ya so’?” 

“What would that solve?” You tucked the hair you’d been toying with behind his ear. Daryl shrugged with a grunt. “I only wanted you to take care of yourself, but I should have let you—”

“Didn’ mean wha’ I said.” He interjected, finally meeting your quizzical gaze. “When I said I didn’ need ya. Didn’ mean it.” 

Your expression melted, impossibly softer, while your fingers left his mane to gingerly stroke his stubbled cheek. You knew he didn’t mean it. Of course you knew. “It’s okay, love. I know.” He looked away, face reddening. He was always shy under the weight of the sweet things you’d call him when his own arsenal of endearments consisted of woman and sunshine. Could he ever possibly understand how those simple words made your heart flutter? “Will you give it a few days of taking it slow?”

“Then you catch him.”

You tapped a finger against the far side of his face, willing him to return your attention. He did, the slight shifting of his jaw indicating he was chewing the inside of his lip. “Even if you say no, I’ll back you up. But I really wish you would.”

The archer studied you for any hint of an untruth, finding none in your gentle but determined stare. He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll slow down.” You wanted to beam at him but reeled it in behind a nod. 

“I’ve got your back. No matter what.”

Taglist:

@thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @feral4daryl @deansapplepie @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @loganlostitall @callmeyn @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bigbaldheadname @bananafire11 @graciepies @georgiadixon @esgoraths @hutchersonsgurl @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @KatelynAngel @richardsamboramylove55 @m0ss-g0blin @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @ass-butt-themusical @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @ashtonbabe @atyourmomshouse01 @dixonzzgirl @unhingedbiatch @bultamer @lumimon47

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno2 #collapse #injury #the walking dead #fic #murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead daryl dixon

[of-twilight-and-moonshadow]

Ask Game answers - MultiFandom, Emery and Phoenix

As I mentioned in the reply to the 'Ask'. My reply was long, because of all the parts to it, so I made it a new post with a 'keep reading' option.

Okay—A) Thank you for the Ask! B ) Thank you for asking about House of Wax, OMG. I don’t watch horror movies EXCEPT this one and I LOVE IT so much. Vinny is baby and needs protected. (well probably not… but you get my point) C ) I definitely don’t mind the multiple parts to this! I’m just glad someone inboxed me :D.

Also, sorry it took so long, I got busy with schoolwork and trying to catch up on Dynamite and life in general. But here you go Nonny. (And they’re in order based on the question, so whatever the order the thing is listed is the same order the answer will be—and each will only have 3 passes available to use)

To: Emery ( E ) and Phoenix ( P )

You can see exactly how similiar/different the two of them are from their answers to this.

Kenny Omega, Orange Cassidy, Wardlow (Wrestling) Stab, Shoot, Drown: E= *cries* OC, K-kenny, Wardlow P = OC, Wardlow, Kenny Fist Fight, Get Drunk with, Share a Flat With: E = Orange, Wardlow, Kenny P = Kenny, Wardlow, OC Go to a Wedding with, Go to a Party with, Go to a Museum with: E = OC, Wardlow, Kenny P = Wardlow, Kenny, Wardlow Fck, Marry, Kiss: E = …. Wardlow, Kenny, Orange P = …. OC, Wardlow, Kenny (Can I kill him instead? >> )

Damian Priest, Finn Balor, Jey Uso (Wrestling) Stab, Shoot, Drown: E = Damian, Finn, Jey *cries* P = …. Refuses (1) Fist Fight, Get Drunk with, Share a Flat With: E = Damian, Jey, Finn P = Jey, Damian, Finn Go to a Wedding with, Go to a Party with, Go to a Museum with: E = Jey, Damian, Finn P = Finn, Jey, Damian Fck, Marry, Kiss: E = Finn, Damian, Jey P = Damian, Finn, Jey

Imperium (Wrestling) – Walter, Marcel Barthel, Fabian Aichner Stab, Shoot, Drown: E= Hard pass (1) P= Values her life too much to answer this (2) Fist Fight, Get Drunk with, Share a Flat With: E= Walter (a quick L), Marcel, Fabian P= Marcel, Walter, Fabian Go to a Wedding with, Go to a Party with, Go to a Museum with: E= Fabian, Marcel, Walter P= Walter, Marcel, Fabian Fck, Marry, Kiss: E= ….Fabian, Marcel, Walter P= agrees. Fabian, Marcel, Walter

BCC (Wrestling) choose any 3 of the 4 you'd like – Bryan, Mox, Claudio, Yuta Stab, Shoot, Drown: E= Claudio, Bryan, Mox P= …. Pass (3- no more left) Fist Fight, Get Drunk with, Share a Flat With: E= Claudio, Mox, Yuta P= Mox, Yuta, Claudio Go to a Wedding with, Go to a Party with, Go to a Museum with: E= Yuta, Mox, Claudio P= Claudio, Mox, Yuta Fck, Marry, Kill: E= …. Claudio, Yuta, …. Bryan and Mox P= rude. …. Yuta, Claudio…. Bryan *shrug*

Mustache Mountain (Wrestling) – Trent Seven, Tyler Bate, Pete Dunne Stab, Shoot, Drown: E= No! (2) P= Tyler, Pete, Trent Fist Fight, Get Drunk with, Share a Flat With: E= Tyler, Pete, Trent P= Pete, Tyler, Trent Go to a Wedding with, Go to a Party with, Go to a Museum with: E= Trent, Pete, Tyler P= Tyler, Pete, Trent Fck, Marry, Kiss: E= Pete, Trent, Tyler P= Tyler, Trent, Pete

Best Friends (Wrestling) – Chuck Taylor, Trent Barretta, Orange Cassidy Stab, Shoot, Drown: E= NEVER (3- no more left) P= Trent, Orange, Chuck Fist Fight, Get Drunk with, Share a Flat With: E= OC, Trent, Chuck P= Trent, Chuck, Orange Go to a Wedding with, Go to a Party with, Go to a Museum with: E= OC, Trent, Chuck P= Trent, Orange, Chuck Fck, Marry, Kiss: E= Chuck, OC, Trent P= Trent, Chuck, OC

Darby Allin, Marko Stunt, ELP (Wrestling) Stab, Shoot, Drown: E= *cries more* ELP, Marko, Darby P= Darby, ELP, Marko Fist Fight, Get Drunk with, Share a Flat With: E= Marko, ELP, Darby P= Darby, Marko, ELP Go to a Wedding with, Go to a Party with, Go to a Museum with: E= Darby, ELP, Marko P= ELP, Marko, Darby Fck, Marry, Kiss: E= Darby, ELP, Marko P= ELP, Darby, Marko

Daryl Dixon, Negan , Jesus/Paul (Walking Dead) Stab, Shoot, Drown: E= :{ Daryl, Jesus, Negan P= Negan, Daryl, Jesus Fist Fight, Get Drunk with, Share a Flat With: E= Negan, Daryl, Jesus P= Jesus, Daryl, Negan Go to a Wedding with, Go to a Party with, Go to a Museum with: E= Daryl, Negan, Jesus P= Jesus, Daryl, Negan Fck, Marry, Kill: E= Jesus, Daryl, Negan P= Daryl, Negan, Jesus

Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Bo Sinclair (House of Wax) Stab, Shoot, Drown: (both ask if you’re trying to kill them) E= Vincent, Bo, Lester P= Lester, Bo, Vincent Fist Fight, Get Drunk with, Share a Flat With: E= Lester, Bo, Vincent P= Bo, Lester, Vincent Go to a Wedding with, Go to a Party with, Go to a Museum with: E= Bo, Lester, Vincent P= agrees. Bo, Lester, Vincent Fck, Marry, Kill/Kiss: E= Bo, Vincent, Lester P= Lester, Bo, Vincent

Castiel, Lucifer, Crowley (Supernatural) Stab, Shoot, Drown: E= Lucifer, Crowley, Cas P= Crowley, Lucifer, Cas Fist Fight, Get Drunk with, Share a Flat With: E= Lucifer, Cas, Crowley P= Cas, Crowley, Lucifer Go to a Wedding with, Go to a Party with, Go to a Museum with: E= Cas, Lucifer, Crowley P= Crowley, Lucifer, Cas Fck, Marry, Kiss: E= Lucifer, Crowley, Cas P= Crowley, Lucifer, Cas

Sub Zero (Bi Han), Scorpion (Hanzo), Sub Zero (Kuai Liang) Stab, Shoot, Drown: (you’re really trying to kill us, aren’t you?) E= Kuai, Hanzo, Bi-Han P= Bi-Han, Kuai, Hanzo Fist Fight, Get Drunk with, Share a Flat With: E= Bi-Han, Hanzo, Kuai P= Kuai, Bi-Han, Hanzo Go to a Wedding with, Go to a Party with, Go to a Museum with: E= Hanzo, Bi-Han, Kuai P= Kuai, Bi-Han, Hanzo Fck, Marry, Kill: E= Hanzo, Kuai, Bi-Han P= Kuai, Hanzo, Bi-Han

#dark angel of the bullet club #OC #original female characters #OC emery #OC Phoenix #aew #wwe #ask game #answered asks #wrestling #house of wax #mortal kombat #supernatural #walking dead

[mirrorofagony]

Condition of Solitude.

He said the prayer out of memory. Gabriel doing the crossing motion towards Pete’s grave. Then ro the other dead after the incident.

But that prayer had continued.

To each dead person, to each person and to each child of theirs.

Rick always thought he was crazy for doing a prayer for an abuser. Gabriel always explained with, “All of Gods children deserve to have a prayer. So long as they accept it, and worship rhat prayer to the Heavens light. If they don’t, then they shall burn in the pits of hell for all of eternity.”

Daryl questions on Gabriel for why he believes in God. Gabriel always explained with, “He is my lord and Savior. He helped me in so many ways, that I wish to continue to worship him. Now, it is alright if you don’t believe him. I am sure he will still love you either way, Mister Dixon.”

Rosita questions on why she loved Gabriel. The Priest always explained with, “Because God made us happen. You are the Eve to my Adam. Even if we are apart, we are destined to be lovers. At least friends, at the most.”

But no ever questions on how he was with the Lord. At least not anymore.

Gabriel sat onto the many benches in the Church. He looked at the ceiling, seeing God with his angels. All bowing down to him. Gabriel wondered so many questions.

Was he respected?

Was he loved by the Lord?

Did he still forgave him?

Did God, Jehova himself, forgive Gabriel? Or was he simply a messenger?

“There you are.” Aaron spoke out as Gabriel perked up. “I wanted to talk to you on something. It’s about Ezekiel’s tiger, Shiva.”

Gabriel stood up, his hands folded in front of his lap. “What is it?” He walked towards the wallless hallway that separates the benches.

“Does God make sure all animals cross or something like that? I was just.. thinking.. Maybe you can bless Shiva’s leash before Ezekiel gives it to Ezra.” Aaron explained, shyly smile as he tried to seem confident.

But Gabriel spoke up. “Yes. Yes, of course. But are you doing this so I can keep busy, so for Ezekiel’s mourning upon Shiva?”

Aaron paused, furrowing his eyebrows before shaking his head. “N-No, I would never do that. I just figured that it would make Ezekiel happier that Shiva is in a better place. This world.. Gabriel.. Is in ruined. We need anything for reassurance. Even if we don’t believe it.”

Gabriel didn’t want to believe in Aaron’s comforting words. He was not believing in God no more- or at least feeling the connection that once was. He spoke up but was interrupted by the man.

“I know it has been rough recently. With the commonwealth and all. But I assure you, Gabriel. You help us a lot more than you realize.” Aaron stated softly. His lips frowning. “You.. You know that, right?”

Gabriel gave Aaron a look of pain. A broken look. The blinded eye tearing up, so did the other eye. However the Grey pupil showed more pain than the other. Gabriel was going to cry.

That’s when Aaron engulfed him with a hug. Gabriel grasped onto the others torso. His hands gripping onto the flannel shirt, his body shaking.

“Gabriel, you are so worth living.” Aaron spoke out loud, not letting Gabriel move from the hug. And was grateful that the other didn’t. “You helped us.. So much..” He even felt his own eyes tear up.

Gabriel began to cry and sob, whimpering and whine out from the other praises. He wanted this. God heard him. He had heard him and this is what he deserves.

The devil attempted to hurt him. Lucifer and his holy demons, trying to pull him away from his family. Gabriel originally thought that he was just worthless- a simple messenger. Nothing more but a machine to comfort people.

But here was his comfort.

The Ar Goetia stared at him for a long time.

But now.

Here came the Holy Angels, battling off the seventy-two demons.

But even still then.

Gabriel believed that the devil had helped him in ways as well.

Aaron pulled the hug away and Gabriel rubbed his eyes with his head. He whimpered and nodded. “I- I just- it felt like I was just God’s messenger. Like I was supposed to do his dirty work. It was the reason why I just- grew so distant!”

Aaron shook his head. “If anything, with how long you have survived out there and in Alexandria, God has loved you. More than you can realize.”

God did love him.

He did.

“You have a child, Gabriel. Coco.” “You have a close ex, and not a lot of people get that.” “You have so many things, you need to realize that.”

“..But when will I realize that.. Religion possibly doesn’t exist..?” The intrusive thought pondered.

#twd writing #twd #writing #twd season 11 #twd spoilers

[theteasetwrites]

The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon | S1E2 Thoughts

⚠️ SPOILERS AHEAD ⚠️ do not read below the cut unless you’re okay with spoilers

Positive Thoughts

The opening scenes in Paris at the start of the outbreak? Genuinely got my heart pumping and my adrenaline rushing. I was actually freaked out. I wish TWD would have shown the outbreak actually happening more than they did. It would've been really interesting to see how each character ended up at the quarry, going all the way back to season 1 of TWD, but that's irrelevant lol

Camerawork is crazy good??? I mean, I don't really know anything about cameras but I thought that there were some really cool dynamic shots, especially in the flashbacks.

Isabelle is growing on me a LOT. I am so glad she is turning out to be her own character so far. I mean, I don't completely trust her because I think she definitely has her own agenda (can't really blame her), but I like her character. She hasn't annoyed me once which is crazy because even DARYL has annoyed me a few times in this episode lol

I loved the little detail of Sylvie being at the abbey when Isabelle arrives with Lily. Just a cool little detail where we see a little bit of Sylvie's story, too

The entire concept of Laurent being born to a walker is cool as hell and idc what anyone says. I wonder if him being born to a walker actually has some kind of effect on him. Of course, my first thought goes to maybe he is immune or something, or he carries the cure to the virus in his blood. I am so excited to see how that pans out. Idc if it's "ripping off" TLOU (I don't think it is tbh)

Speaking of Laurent, I have a newfound appreciation for him. He's so cute and sweet, and I felt bad for him when the children were picking on him

Lou's group is SO COOL. I love that they're a little group of children who raised themselves. Kinda reminds me of Jocelyn's kids from season 9 of TWD, but less evil. MUCH less evil. Not evil at all, actually. They remind me of the Lost Boys from the movie Hook, which is based on Peter Pan. That dinner scene was especially reminiscent of that for me

Daryl being undercover as a priest LOLIONGJWKDS

Daryl has some amazing sassy/cute moments in this episode. I think my personal favorite is when he loudly slurps down the soup at the dinner table. I also loved the little detail of Daryl starting to eat before everyone else/before they said grace, signifying how Daryl doesn't really have good table manners (which I love). It's so cute when he starts saying the prayer with food already in his mouth lol

And Norman's acting in this episode was once again so good. There's a scene when they're watching the TV where the camera slowly zooms in on Daryl. His smile begins to fade and you can just see in his eyes how much he misses home, and how much he wishes he could be with his family, even Merle, who he is probably thinking about, too, since he used to watch the show with him.

DARYL USING A MORNINGSTAR DARYL USING A MORNINGSTAR DARYL USING A MORNINGSTAR DARYL USING A MORNINGSTAR DARYL US--

That annoying American was slightly entertaining. Mostly annoying but slightly entertaining as well

Daryl and Laurent are very cute. I love how Daryl sort of relates to him in that they were both outcasts as children

Negative Thoughts

There are a few things Daryl does in this episode that rubbed me the wrong way just a tad bit. Of course I still love him but I just don't understand some of his decisions lol. Like when he let the mule go instead of just getting off his ass and taking out those walkers. He could've done it! Especially with the help of Isabelle and Sylvie. They probably could've taken out that herd without sacrificing the mule. Just kind of a stupid decision imo. Unnecessarily cruel too. I also didn't get why Daryl locked Lou in that shed. Kinda not cool? He could've just said, "hey, you stay back and I'll handle this." I didn't really see the point in having him do that :/ and he lies a lot to Lou and the kids in order to get what he wants. I mean, I get that he doesn't owe anything to these kids, but still... just seems a little callous. It's giving Carol vibes lol. They're basically making Daryl do things the way Carol does them—by lying, manipulating, and being cruel to children. I like Daryl because of his kindness, not this weird deceitfulness that he has going on suddenly. Again, I get that he is in a foreign place and these are all strangers to him so why should he care, but it just really doesn't seem like our Daryl. Other than that, I liked Daryl a lot in this episode, but there were just some little things I didn't vibe with

This episode did seem to veer away from the main plot quite a bit. I wonder if Lou's group will return later to help Daryl and the others in his group, or if they were just a one and done storyline. While I loved this little adventure, it did seem to not really add to the overall arc, and the little scene at the end with Codron walking around the abbey did seem a bit shoehorned just to remind us of the actual plot, but who knows?

Neither Positive Nor Negative Thoughts

So lets talk about the bed scene. Idk. I didn't hate it because I didn't see anything romantic there between Daryl and Isabelle, BUT it was a little like... can't you guys just have there be two beds lol. I really just think it's baiting, once again. I don't feel any romantic connection between them, and I don't think the show is necessarily trying to get that across to us, but I do think that they're like "well if people do think this is a romance, it will get them to continue watching the show and see if they get together!" So basically I think it's just a way to get people interested, but I don't think anything will happen. I think they will stay friends, otherwise it would be very awkward, at least from the way their relationship is so far

That's about all I have to say I think! Thanks for reading my thoughts. Hoping to get Chapter 2 of Begin Again out before the next episode, but no promises <3

#the walking dead: daryl dixon #twd: daryl dixon #daryl dixon #the walking dead

[ankhmutes]

Supernatural!.... again? I don't know.

I got season sets of Supernatural, so gave them to the boyfriend for hunting season so he can watch it up on the mountain where there's no internet.

Naturally, me having internet because I am not out hunting, I watched Supernatural on my streaming service. And jeez, it is GOOD.

Of course, now it's got me to thinking....

Winchester.

Charles Emerson Winchester III, is he a Winchester? he has to be, I mean.. come on. How can they have funded all this? Anyway, back to my point.

I've been watching too many different TV shows, swimming in the fandom pools of different fandoms that I get my wires crossed sometimes... but think this out.

TWD, Sons, Supernatural... all seem to happen with similar timelines. They have vague connections. Plus who wouldn't like to see these characters kick zombie ass, or at least, pump a shotgun full of rock salt?

I'm thinking. My over-tired and semi-drunk brain has thought up this insane tangent. If you are interested in what weird crap my brain has come up with, look below. If not, no feelings are hurt.

1953: Korea.

"Charles, it's all in your head. The patient didn't rise from the dead." Hawkeye said with a chuckle, as Mulcahy hovered by Charles's shoulder, his blue eyes wide behind his spectacles. Klinger stood on the other side of Charles, open-mouthed at the dead body that lay sprawled on the ground before them, a silver scalpel stuck in the chest, where the heart was.

"I... I saw it, Charles." Mulcahy whispered, a hand on Charles's shoulder, his blue eyes meeting Klinger's, the three of them pausing a moment before Klinger put into words what Charles had been thinking.

"Is there more.... out there?"

"There is, Klinger. My collar is one of them." Mulcahy said with a nod, his fingers moving from Charles's shoulder to finger his collar, his shaky hand smoothing down his jacket.

"This... cannot happen again." Charles finally said in a soft exhale, having recovered enough to look back up and lock eyes with Mulcahy and Klinger; the two sharing a solemn moment of agreement, that this would never happen again.

1986: Lawrence, Kansas

"Why are we burning his body?" Dean asked John, as the three of them stood before a funeral pyre. "He wasn't a hunter."

"Yes, but he was family." John said as he turned to glance at the strange ragtag group that stood at the side of the clearing. A mix of bikers, priests, and old men stood around, smoking and drinking and watching the body burn. One of the old men had brought a record player that was playing classical music and the group stood out in silence until the fire had consumed the body. Bobby moved from the group to the Winchesters, accompanied by two bikers in vests, both of them dark haired and long haired, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths.

"Tig and Chibs here have some questions."

"One of our chapters down in Senioa, Georgia- they got a problem with a Chucupabara. You into that weird stuff... can ya take care of it?"

"Yeah, sure. We'll do it."

"Dixon boys gonna set you up, the youngest boy's the one who saw it. He can help ya, I'm sure." Tig said with a exhale of smoke. "Older boy, Merle, is a prospect of ours, he'll make sure ya got your firepower."

2012: Senioa, Georgia.

"Winchester! Winchester!" Daryl screamed into the phone, his eyes wide as he watched the carnage below him, his body leaning over the roof slightly, watching his brother with his rifle.

"Worthless trash, won't answer the fucking phone." Merle said with a grunt, loading the bullets in the chamber. "At least the Sons got us a good batch a bullets ta last us.

"We gotta get up to Kansas way. They know all this weird shit, they can end this." Daryl said with a grunt of frustration. "Gonna get to the hospital first, supplies and all, and we can go. Stay sober, Mer."

"Fuck, if I ain't sober, I don't know what this shit is." Merle shouted after Daryl, following his younger brother down to their waiting truck, Merle's motorcycle in the bed of the truck with their supplies.

"Tigger n' Chibs got our six, california's gone. They's coming our way wi' whoever is left." Merle added as they made their way slowly and carefully up to the hospital. The brothers made their way carefully through the hospital, until Merle heard a noise. A human noise.

"Who's there?" a voice called out, raspy with slow and soft footsteps as a bearded man slowly walked out of an hospital room, gown flowing out around him, his face and body gaunt. Merle and Daryl shared a surprised glance, shocked that the man had survived the masscare that was the hospital.

"The fuck are you?" Merle asked as Daryl's phone belted out "carry on my wayward son".

"Dean! the fuck is going on? can you stop this? people are eating each other out there." Daryl snarled into the phone, not bothering with an hello. The man stared at the brothers, his hands held up weakly.

"I'm Rick Grimes."

"Daryl. Merle." Merle said sharply as Daryl raved and ranted into the phone, shouting at someone named Dean.

"We gotta go to Kansas."

If you made it this far, let me know if you want to read more of my ranting and raving. I could pull some more out of this probably. Comments are welcome and DMs and whatever.

Jesus, I need a life. Hunting season can't end soon enough.

#sons of anarchy #supernatural #the walking dead #fanfiction #i'm rambling #bits and pieces #snippets #fanfiction plot bunny #i read too much fanfiction #i love fanfiction #merle dixon #daryl dixon #m*a*s*h #charles emerson winchester iii #dean winchester #john winchester #tig trager #chibs telford #bobby singer