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thewritersaddictions · 7 months

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(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-

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corvidcrossbow · 19 days

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So all the stuff about vamp!Daryl was reminding me of Kirby in Masters of Horror, since he kinda has those offputting, vamperic vibes (n flat out looks like one at some points) – so I made a buncha gifs n took screenshots (that don't have coloring) if anyone wants to use em in vamp!Daryl stuff, maybe young!vamp!Daryl (???) (Or just stare cuz he's very pretty in this show)

And of course thank you to @norman-fucking-reedus for so quickly spreading the agenda on vamp!Daryl it's perfect ‼️

(Also I swear the quality looks better in browser or when you save them (at least on my phone) 😭🙏 – and in the last gif he's saying 'I love you' if anybody can't read lips well)

#daryl dixon #daryldixon #vamp!daryl #vamp!daryl dixon #vampire!daryl #vampire!daryl dixon #norman reedus #normanreedus #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd #daryl dixon headcanon #daryl dixon imagine #masters of horror #kirbysweetman #kirby sweetman #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader

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celtic-crossbow · 22 days

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I’m going to be adding this to the series master list but I wanted to share it here first.

This was drawn by my favorite anon🩵 for Blood Ties. It makes me so incredibly happy and I’m in love with it. It fits the narrative so well! And such gorgeous work!!

Just some insight that I was given:

Reader is playing around with Daryl's vest while he holds onto her leg, afraid she's gonna fall.

Carol hovering cause she's the MVP (we all know it's true)

I love the old house and the truck and everyone's clothes are on point. I just love love love it!

Thank you so so much for this!! I’m going to treasure it. 🩵🩵🩵

#favorite anon🩵#favorite anon #fanart by favorite anon #blood ties #blood ties fanart #murda writes #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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sunnybunnyy2 · 7 months

Text

Two Wrongs Don’t Make A Right

Daryl Dixon x platonic!reader

Negan Smith x daughter!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.0k

TIME: season 7

Warnings: imprisonment, talk of rapists(briefly), talk of murder, mentions of Abe’s and Glenn’s deaths, arguments, mentions of saviours, mentions of what transpired in season six and seven, spoiler warning and bad writing.

CHAPTER 2 of the Dark Cell series

Series Masterlist Official Masterlist

This is long awaited! I'm sorry that this has taken so long but I have been making fanfics on Wattpad recently and if you are a fellow fanfic writer you understand how much unnecessary time it takes to come up with ideas and lines to make your character come to life. Thank you all for being so patient with me! Also, requests are open, and I will be redoing my master list, so look out for that. I have been influenced so yes, this is going to become a series so stay tuned! Now that I finished this part I have more motivation to actually write for this! I’d you want to be tagged in the series let me know! Thank you so much for reading<3

(if there is third person slip ups I’m sorry, I’m just so used to writing in third person :( )

The exchanges took place every night at around 1 a.m., and it had for the past seven days.

You would arrive carrying a plate or bowl of whatever leftover food you had managed to swipe from the kitchen or some dinner from the meals you would share with Negan.

You had aimed to make the food before you went down so that it was still hot but it was risky as, there was a large chance that one of Negan's men would notice and alert your father, which would raise suspicion.

The food consisted of Sandwiches, chicken, pasta, fish, soup and wraps.

You wished you could do it more often, but you knew that it would largely increase the chances of you getting caught.

You knew your punishment wouldn't be anywhere near how severe Daryl's would be. You also knew that as much as you pleaded your father would allow his pawns to have their fun in harming the long-haired man. You weren't quite sure why your father's men were so willing to starve and beat a man senseless to appear strong. Men and their egos you supposed.

Your father could preach all he wanted about how he would do anything for his daughter, how he would move mountains to appease you. How he would kill anyone who dared to disrespect you (he had) but yet he couldn't try and be a better man. He couldn't put his rage and grieve the wicked world had caused him and help people instead of torturing broken people and turning people who wanted to survive into heartless killers. Turn them into him.

You couldn't say you hated your father. You never could. But that certainly didn't mean you agreed with half the things he did.

You could tell he cared what you thought of him. You were the last thing he had of your mother, but that didn't mean he listened to you when you expressed your opinion.

You and your father were close before all of this happened, well before you found out about his affair. After that day you hated everything about him. Even when your mother got sick and he stood by her, did everything for her. You weren't sure if it was because of how guilty he felt for betraying her or because he loved her.

Normally you would insist on it being the first but now she was at a loss.

Since your mother's demise, your once childish but thoughtful father had turned into a power-hungry greedy man. At first you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was grieving and was trying to find a way to cope with the loss of the woman he loved but it was as though he was forgetting that his daughter had lost her mother.

He wanted to make you happy, so he gifted you the biggest room in the sanctuary and allowed you to purchase whatever you desired without working, though you often helped with the growing crops in the back of the sanctuary. Your father never really liked the idea of her around the fence but he backed down after a heated argument between you. He did send some of his men to keep an eye on you, he tried to be discreet but his men were less than.

You always made sure to bring a large glass of tap water from your room down to his cell, wanting to at least make sure he didn't die of dehydration.

You knew that his physical health wasn't as bad as it was before but you knew that his mental health was still declining. He had been locked in the tiny cell for weeks on end, the only sound filling his ears was the constant lyrics of the song 'East Street'.

The bags under his eyes were proof enough of the lack of sleep he had been receiving. The way his eyes could barely focus on one thing when you would bring him his meals was another important factor in your conclusion.

Since your visits had become more frequent he had uttered his name quietly into the comfortable silence that had filled the cell as he hastily inhaled what was in front of him. It was so quiet that you had barely heard him, but once you realized that it wasn't your imagination you smiled softly to yourself before muttering your name as well.

In your mind, you were friends. You knew his name, he knew yours, you would bring him food, he would be thankful and you were both the highlight of each other's day.

Daryl- because he wasn't rapidly dropping weight as he had been before from his lack of food, which in turn kept his brain running so he could coax his thoughts into coming up with a plan to escape his captivity. Plus your company wasn't so bad he reckoned.

You- because you got to meet another survivor from a rivalling group, you had heard your father angrily ranting to his soldiers about how this mysterious group had taken out one of his many posts and killed everyone in it.

You were shocked at how brutal this group could be but you knew that your father could be even more heartless and it was proven when a week later whispers were passed along through the sanctuary that your father had partaken in another one of his lineups and had bashed in two members of Daryl's groups heads in with Lucille.

You knew that Daryl's group had killed countless people, saviours but at least their families and friends didn't have to see it, as apparently the people from the outpost were killed while they slept. It was a very cowardly way to kill but it was better in a way, they didn't see it coming.

You clutched the tray of food which consisted of a slice of ham from a pig the saviours had recently slaughtered as a way to celebrate the new community they had under their control, standing with the other few that they had taken over. With a side of carrots that you had picked herself to give him some energy.

Then finally a generous helping of mashed potatoes to fill him up, as you knew that a small sandwich was going to get him through the day. Well, you guessed it was two, as Dwight had made sure to feed him a dog food sandwich every other day to keep him going. A dark pork gravy from the brand Bisto (clubhouse is better but whatever) that was covering a large portion of the potatoes. Your father did always say that you made it taste even better when you made it.

Your eyes peeked around the sharp corner to make sure Arat was on her way to her break that she always made sure to hide, always quick on her feet to head to her room to get several strong minutes of shut-eye.

Your eyes caught sight of Arat quietly creeping her way further and further away from Daryl's new home. You waited a couple of minutes until you were sure she was in her room, possibly already captivated by sleep. You placed one foot in front of the other as you too, crept down the hallway, the fear of getting caught burning fear into her veins.

You balanced the tray on one hand as you reached into your left pocket, to pull out the cell key that you had stolen from Laura, well it wasn't quite stealing, she had dropped it and hadn't even noticed. You could still remember her confused face when she caught you on the ground after catching you mid-grab. You smiled at her and played it off as if you were tying your shoe, which she bought as she shot you a smile and continued on with her ranting.

You turned the key clockwise into the rusting metal, smiling in satisfaction when the lock clicked quietly as a sign that it was now unlocked.

The creak that was loudly pulled from the door as it was opened left you cringing as you quickly shuffled into the room, closing the door until there was only a fragment of it for a little bit of light but it wasn't large enough to draw suspicion towards your meetings.

You could already see Daryl gazing up at you as you pulled the door closed, before lowering yourself to the floor, holding your hands out as a sign for him to take the plate which he did. He had loosened up a large amount since you had started being him food a week ago.

He was still stand-offish and didn't like to talk about his group which you didn't blame him for, you were with the enemy, you were his daughter. You weren't sure if he knew of your status at the sanctuary but if he did, it didn't come from you. It had already taken a great amount of effort to gain his trust and you wouldn't want it broken just because of who your father was.

If he brought it up, you would talk to him about it, but for now, you didn't want to risk losing one of the only people that didn't just suck up to you because they wanted more points or because they were scared to face your father's wrath if they hurt your feelings.

"Hey, sorry I was late, Arat took longer than usual to hit the deck." You quickly explained as expected the food in a curious glint in his eyes. "It's ham. Sorry, I didn't know if you liked it but they just killed a pig and me and my-... I had some for dinner earlier, it was good... and there's potatoes obviously, there's some cheese in them too with carrots and gravy." His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you in question just as he had been since you had almost slipped up. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned well... at least I hope it isn't because I ate the same thing but I guess we'll find out."

He let a harsh breath out of his nose that sounded similar to a laugh before he picked up the metal fork before shoving a large bite of potatoes in his mouth, a barely audible groan fell from his lips as he continued to inhale the food, not even bothering to use the knife that you had brought to cut the meat, opting to just pick it up with his hands.

If it was anyone else you would find the wild eating disgusting, but you understood. He was being starved as a torture method to force him into submission. You had seen this countless times, but nearly all had caved within the first few days. It was shocking to you how strong he was. If it had been you... you weren't sure how long you could last if you were in the same position.

From how wild he was eating you could only assume today wasn't the day he got fed from Dwight.

You assumed you did well with the amount of food you had given him.

You kept your eyes trained on the opened part of the door to make sure the coast was clear still. Normally this side of the sanctuary was almost always deserted, but since Daryl as been held here, you had noticed a lot of working people wanted to catch a glimpse of one of the Alexandrians who had killed numerous soldiers. You weren't sure if was from fear or awe.

"Why are you doing this." He asked as he looked up from his half-eaten plate of food, to examine you while you spoke as if to see if you would lie to him.

"I don't like how he's handing this. I mean... what your group did was wrong. Really wrong. But what he's doing to you isn't right. No one should have to deal with this. I mean other than rapists, pedophiles, or child killers. I mean murder is really bad but there are some ways to excuse it, like self-defence but I mean the worlds over. People kill each other every day to survive. Don't make it right but it makes sense. You did what you thought you had to, to 'save' your group." You ranted slightly as you looked down.

"So you're doing this because I deserve better?" Daryl asked with a quiet snort as though he couldn't fathom the thought of someone actually thinking he was a decent guy.

"Everyone deserves better in some way. But no, some people just need a little help sometimes. You do, so I'm trying to help you." You said as watched him proceed with eating.

He looked up at you after he took yet another bite of his food. "I ain't need no help." He dismissed with a huff as he finished the last of his food.

"Obviously you do. Everybody does. You're no exception." You disagreed as he watched for any signs of Arat possibly returning earlier than usual.

"So why ya helping me? I'm sure the big man has more bitchs." He all but growled as he thought about your father causing your face to drop slightly as he kept your eyes away from him, in hopes of him not being able to see your full life story from just the shine in your eyes. Daryl looked like the type to be able to, you thought.

"He has some other... people in cells-" You were cut off by Daryl as he let out a dangerous scoff that should have had you scared. You were in a closed space with someone who wanted your father dead, I mean sure he didn't know that you and the man he hated most shared the same blood but it didn't matter. You were a Smith and that would never change. No matter how much you hoped and prayed that your father would suddenly turn a new leaf, it never seemed to happen. So at some point, you just saved your previously wasted breath.

"Ya mean prisoners?" He spoke sharply, his words not a question but a statement, showcasing how enraged he truly was with her father.

"Yeah...prisoners. There is some down here, yes. But they deserve it." You said while shaking your head as you thought about the awful people that were locked down here.

"Ain't nobody deserve this shit." He said with his whole chest as his eyes scanned your face with a mixture of hate and disgust at your words. You couldn't blame him though, he was locked in a cell and you had just said that the people locked in them deserved it.

"They're awful people. Rapists, child killers, people who kill without reason-"

"I ain't no rapist and I ain't no child killers. Me and my people had every righ-"

"Nobody has a right to take someone's life. Who made us god? When did we get to choose who got to live and who got to die?" You argued as you furrowed your brows at the man's words.

"How bout' ya tell yer buddy that? He killed my friends." He raised his voice louder than necessary which earned him a dirty look from you as you peeked out of the sliver of the door that shined light into the cell and once you were sure no one was coming with guns raised you turned back to face him.

"You killed dozens of his men while they were sleeping. You do realize that, right? I'm not saying what he did was right either, but you're lucky he didn't kill more of your people." You ranted slightly as you looked at him in confusion, he was so stuck in his own misery that he wasn't thinking about how other people were affected by his and his group's actions.

"Lucky? He bashed my friend's heads in." He said angrily but it was quiet. As if trying to scare you into submission but you didn't back down.

"And I'm sorry for your friends. I really am. But you couldn't have thought that your group could get away with slaughtering- and it was a slaughtering, his men and get away scot-free. You killed his soldiers. He takes that shit as a personal attack. So when I say I'm surprised he didn't kill more of you I mean it."

"One of my friends' wives was pregnant' ya think she deserved ta see that? Now tha' kid's gonna grow up without a father."

"Of course not. That's awful and I'm so sorry...but some of the men and women you slaughtered had kids. Wives. Parents. They had people who loved them too. One of the men, Mike, had a pregnant wife at one of the other outposts. She was eight months and gave birth to her baby girl two days after he died. Alone. And a woman, Mel, just got married to the man she loved, they were trying for a baby... He killed himself last week. Hung himself in his room all alone." You paused for a moment to see if he was going to speak up but when he didn't, you continued.

"An-and a woman named Willow had a baby at another outpost. Now that baby has to grow up without a mother. Another man named Carlos was an only child and had to work for points to provide for his parents. They're old and can't do it themselves. Now they're barely eating and are so depressed that their health is deteriorating, we're not sure how long they have left. So I'm sorry that your friends lost people they cared about but you didn't just get your group hurt with your guy's actions. You guys ruined so many lives that night."

You finished your rant as you shook your head, looking up at him only to see him looking down at his hands, his overgrown hair hung low to cover his eyes, masking his true reaction.

"I'm not trying to say that your friends' deaths don't matter but you can't just go around acting like you didn't kill people either. Like everyone else's pain doesn't matter to not feel guilty. But it does." You said quietly before deciding you had spent long enough in the stuffy cell. You reached over, grabbing the plate from in front of him before pulling yourself to your feet. You waited for him to speak again but he didn't bother and once you turned around he noticed that he hadn't moved from his place.

"Good night." You shook your head before he pulled the creaky door open a little more so the gap was large enough to fit your body through, closing it until you felt the metal clank quietly against metal.

You pulled out the key and shoved it into the lock, twisting it quickly before you heard quiet footsteps walking down the hallway from where Arat had left from. It seemed like you had left at the perfect time, you supposed.

You quietly but hastily quickened your pace until you were at the same corner you had looked over from around fifteen minutes prior.

You watched as Arat ran a hand over her short black and bleached blonde hair as she let out a yawn, swaying on her feet slightly from the over-tiredness she was experiencing, which was probably in full swing by the shortness of her sleep.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief before you quietly made your way in the direction of her room, the plate held tightly in your grasp as you walked past the mostly deserted sanctuary, sending a small smile to some of the saviours on watch duty. Most sent one back your way, while others seemed annoyed at the fact that they had duty at all, leaving them too aggravated to bother.

You were about to turn the handle of your door when you heard a voice stop you.

"Baby? What are you doin' up? It's late." Your father's voice stopped you in your tracks. A part of you wanted to run into your room and pretend that you had been sleepwalking but you knew your father knew you better than that and could almost always tell when you were fake sleeping. It was an odd talent if you were to be frank. So you turned around with a smile and spoke.

"I couldn't sleep. Decided to take a walk." You lied.

"With an empty plate of food?" He asked with raised eyebrows a sarcastic smirk on his face.

"...I got hungry on the way. Just heated up some leftovers from dinner. Didn't know that was a crime, Dad." You huffed in an attempt to sound believable.

"It's late. You could have woken me up. I would have walked with you." He said as he studied you.

"Seriously, dad? Literal armed guards are crawling the place. I think I'm okay walking to the kitchen. Plus you barely sleep as it is." You rolled your eyes at his mindset.

"I always have time for you, hunny... so who's the boy? Or girl. I don't discriminate. Hell, ya could be in love with a goddamn pumpkin and I would still approve. Maybe a little weirded out but hey, we all have our kinks." He smirked but his nose scrunched up slightly as he realized he was talking to his daughter and not one of his henchmen.

"Oh, wow, you figured it out. His name is Donteatmyseedsplease. I didn't want to keep it from you but I don't think you would approve. I'm so very glad I have your support, father dearest." You said in an overly happy voice even your eyes rolled with almost every word you spoke. You turned back to your door and turned ten knob, not going in as though to not give your father the opportunity to join you.

"You'll have to bring him over for dinner sometime we'll have squash."

"That wasn't funny Dad."

"Damn, you know how to wound a man's ego. Good girl, I taught you well." He said in a proud tone.

"I'm exhausted. Can we talk tomorrow? I wanted to talk to you about something actually..." You spoke as you pushed your door open even wider than it had been and started to make her way into your large room.

"That's never good." He groaned before he leaned over to land a kiss atop your head. "I'll see you tomorrow, baby. I'm busy but I always have time for you." He pulled away and sent a smile your way which you returned before closing the door and leaning against it. A sigh of relief left your lips as you realized you were in the clear.

TAG LIST: @cult-of-norman @book-place @ilovespiderpeople @kazunish @mysouleaten

(let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for the future chapters!)

#the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon x platonic!reader #negan smith x daughter!reader #The walking dead x platonic!reader #The walking dead xteen!reader #daryl dixon x reader #Dark cell series

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lazyneonrabbitt · 3 months

Text

Much fun indeed

Funny Sonny x Reader | SMUT 🔞

A summary of what being with the biker has thought you over time Again apologies for the Daryl tags

This is basically a collection of scenes me and @celtic-crossbow thought up over the course of a very chatty evening.

🚬 🚬 🚬

You and your friend walked onto the bikers' property, having asked if it was okay for her to come look at the bikes and meet your boyfriend she was allowed to come over when fhey held their bonfire night.

"So, which one's yours? There's so many tasty looking ones here I almost want one for my own." She leaned in closer at those last words.

You looked around to find him and evenfually spotted him further off and pointed him out.

"Oh? The spiky blonde one? Good choice." She glanced at the men talking and gave you a pat on the back, but you told her no. "No, the one he's talking to. The fuzzy one."

You learned so much in your relationship with him. It was crazy how everyone on the crew let you wat h as they did bike repairs and talk you through the process of it. By now you could even follow a conversation and knew somewhat of what they were doing to the bikes.

But that wasn't all you learned.

You learned that you were a lot less of a prude than you thought.

Sonny loved parading you around and showing gou off to the younger members and new kids that joined. You'd love to walk around in your new leather jacket with nothing undetneath, red and purple bruises all over your chest where Sonny had marked you up. Whenever he caught one of them staring you were pulled onto his lap, the zipper of your jacket being opened even further and Sonny's face would be between your tits, biting and sucking at them.

"Ah, hey!" He had snatched you by the waist and pulled you onto him. The sound of your jacket clear over the crackling of the fire. "Clearly not obvious enough." Sonny mumbled between each new mark. By the time he was done your chest was shiny with drool and adorned with a few new fresh bites.

On longer nights that could easily last till early morning you now always made sure to wear trousers that kept gou warm enough and had an elastic waistband. You had a favorite pair of sweatpants that hugged your ass and thighs oh so well. Well, technically theg were Sonny's favorite pants. You had slowly become a master in keeping quiet. Sonny on drugs got horny, but also too lazy to get up and take you inside for a round or two so he opted to pull you into his lap while he sat cross-legged on the concrete. You knew what he was planning as soon as the started playfully untying the strings and made his hand disappear, letting you know you should pull up your legs so no one would see the outline of his hand working your folds through the crotch of your pants.

His lips would be up against your ear, mumbling any and all disgusting thoughts he had. "See how often you can cum before anyone notices?" You squeezed his thigh in reply, having to keep your mouth shut or you'd only whine. "You're so into this, my gross girl." His whispers turned into sofg bites at your earlobe that made keeping quiet ony harder.

You never liked when people got all gropey and sucking each others' face off in public, but this?

The lazy fingerfucking was your favorite part of long crew nights, and keeping your moans and whines hidden was such a nice challenge. You knew you'd been caught once or twice by the new recruits but they never dared to mention it and looked away quickly. You almost wanted to give info the pleasure and show just how good Sonny's fingers felt pumping into your sopping pussy.

Before you two met you were already someone with a full purse of 'just in case' items, but nowadays a pack of expensive brand moist wipes was part of your daily carry-ons too. The feeling of riding with Sonny and empty your mind was so freeing, but you could never help your mind wandering to what was at the end of your trip. "Takin' you somewhere pretty." He'd always say. As a biker Sonny knew all the best spots around the area with all the best views. Also the best secluded areas to bend you over his bike and take you from behind, far enough away from anyone so he could have you scream and beg until your throat was sore. "Sonnyy--- please lemme cum.." but clearlt he wouldn't until he had his fun. Or he'd have you draped over the tank with your ass on the seat. Legs spread at each side of his with your pants dangling off one ankle and his as well as he rutted into you at a fast pace. "Gods, look at how well it fits. Like my own personal fucktoy.." His hands on your ass to hold your hips in place as he watched himself fuck into you. After god knows how many rounds you'd be in his lap on the seat, walls contracting through your orgasm while he spilled deep inside of you, having pumped you so full already it ran down onto the leather of his bike seat in thick globs.

You blessed the fact you were on birthcontrol, seeing you both loved watching his cum leak from your folds.

#sometimes i write #the bikeriders #funny sonny #norman reedus #smut #x reader #daryl dixon x reader

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frenziedslashers · 1 year

Text

I Love You, And I Don't Say It Enough:

Pt. 2; Baby, It's Okay

Pairing: Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead) x Reader

Warnings: she/her pronouns used, possible ooc Daryl idk, PinV sex, unprotected sex (wrap that shit 👹), rough to soft sex, canon typical violence, mentions of character death. Not proofread.

About: This is set after Season 7 (meaning if you do not know who died Season 7 Episode 1, please do not read if you do not want spoilers.) This is a little fic about Daryl returning to Alexandria after escaping from Negan. I may have gotten some of the details wrong, but this was mostly for my own enjoyment. If you have a request you want to send in for him or another character, feel free. I will be making a master list for TWD and include the characters I write for here in the next few days!

REQUESTING INFO || TWD MASTERLIST

The past few weeks had been some of the toughest of your life. Not only did you witness two of your good friends die, but you knew that more blood would be shed along the way after theirs. You just didn't think it would be Daryl. He wasn't dead, not from what you knew, at least. They just took him from you. A man who's helped you survive since the beginning. A man who you grew very fond of, and he grew just as fond of you in return. You thought Alexandria brought hope to the future the both of you could share. You were wrong. At least in this moment you were so very wrong.

You screamed for them not to take him from you. It only made them laugh. Negan made a comment about wanting to take you, too. Make you his wife and Daryl have to watch him treat you like his. "I'll be back for ya, don't cry," was the last thing Daryl had said to you. It didn't stop your tears, if anything it only made them worse. What if that was the last time he would ever speak with you? The last time you'd ever see his face. What if he ended up like Glenn and Abraham... Or worse?

It felt like months had passed without him, but in reality. It was only about three, maybe four days. Living without him was lonely. Sure as hell a lot colder at night than having his furnace of a body cooped up next to you. When you saw him get off the truck, you nearly collapsed. His eyes looked tired, but they still searched for you. They still widened and looked at you with the same love and adoration as before. Negan was quick to stop the interaction when Daryl blurted your name and the both of you attempted to run for one another.

"Well," his smile, god. You'd give nothing more than to shoot it off his face. "Isn't this just adorable? Don't you think, Lucille?" He chuckled, walking up to you with a curious gaze. "We've got little miss Jane over here, and her man of a Tarzan over there." He spoke with a sigh. "Gross." He snickered, looking back at Daryl while circling around you. Placing his hands on your hips. Watching you flinch and Daryl fight with the people holding him back. "Don't touch 'er!" "Hey now, what did I say? None of that, or else I'll shut," He held his bat up close to your face. "That shit down." He spoke, voice getting lower and more stern with each word. Daryl understood, even if he didn't want to. Looking at you with a gaze that told you everything was going to be all right.

Negan chuckled again, leaning in close to press his nose against the side of your hair. Inhaling deeply, and then sighing. "Damn! Does your woman smell nice. Bet she tastes just as good, if yunno what I mean." He told Daryl with a sly grin. "Don't talk about 'er-" "Do you wanna see her brains on the pavement? Because I sure as hell don't! I've seen too many super hot wives die. No use wasting such a pretty face when she could maybe be yours again." Daryl glared, Negan looking back at you with a sigh and pursed lips. "You should really tame your dog. He's gonna bite someone someday."

After that, you had a sliver of hope. That maybe since they were letting him go on runs with them. That maybe Daryl could figure something out and get away. Maybe you'd wake up one night to Daryl climbing into bed with you. Pulling you close to one another and not saying a word. Just holding each other in silence.

Each passing day grew harder and harder. Each day without him felt like shit. Like it was a reminder that you would be alone. You came into this apocalypse alone. Everyone you ever knew and loved, dead. Then you would die alone. Everyone that you ever knew and loved being just as dead.

But then, it happened.

Everyone else saw him before you had. Hugging and reuniting with their friend. Their family. He didn't linger with anyone too long, though. His main priority was you. It was always you, and would always be. He had to make sure that you were safe. That he knew you were safe. "She's in the house. Up in your room. I think she's reading." Tara told him, and he nodded. Giving a soft thanks before racing off in order to find you. To hold you and never let go.

He crept up the stairs. His body trembling along with his breath. Doing his best to not be too fast and startle you, but the closer he got. The more he couldn't help himself. Finally reaching the door to your guys' room. Reaching out to touch the handle but to his surprise. It turned for him. Watching with cautious and wide eyes as the door opened and he was met with you. His girl. His woman. His wife. Though the two of you weren't official, nor did either of you talk about marriage. He considered you to be his spouse. May as well be since his eyes were only ever on you since they first saw you.

"Daryl," You didn't have time to say anything else. Cut off by Daryl pulling you in for a desperate kiss. He was never good with words, anyways.

The hunter was quick to get his point across too. About how much he missed you. How he wasn't about to let you go anytime soon, either. It didn't take long for him to push you onto the bed once the door was shut, and to have your clothes on the floor along with his own.

"Daryl," you called his name out, over and over like a soft prayer. Hands roaming one another's bodies with desperation. Pulling each other as close as you both could. Hungry mouths worked at either kissing anywhere they could reach or muttering soft nothings to one another.

Daryl was fairly rough with everything at first too. Like he was trying to tell you both that this was real. That he was here and so were you. His hips were fast. Each thrust within you deep and desperate. trying to chase what you both wanted. It was rough and fast, until it wasn't.

A slight worry set within you when his thrusts slowed, finally coming to a hault. His face buried in the crook of your neck. You were about to ask if you did something wrong until you heard the rigid and quiet sob that came from your lover. Frowning while your arms reached out to hold him. One hand on the back of his head, while the other rested on his back. Rubbing with soft motions while shushing him. Peppering the side of his head with kisses.

"Dar', honey, look at me. I'm here, you're back. Please, don't cry," you lulled, your eyes watering at the sound of his cries in your ear. You hated to hear or even see him cry, but you were glad that he did every so often. He was so good at bottling everything up. It scared you a lot of the time.

"Dar', sweetheart, please, look at me. Let me see you," He listened this time. Pulling away from your neck to look down at you. His blue eyes bloodshot. He had a black eye and a busted lip, which only made you frown more. Fingers tracing his face with your eyes. "Oh baby, what'd they do to you." He grunted, turning his face to get you to stop. "I thought I lost you," he muttered, a tear rolling down both of your faces this time. Your own lip quivering at his words. Everything finally setting in with both of you. "I thought I lost you too, Dixon." He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against your own.

"Did they touch you?" You shook your head, hands still holding the sides of his face. "No, think ya scared them too much," Daryl chuckled lightly at that. Opening his eyes to look at you again. "Yeah, maybe."

It was silent again. The both of you holding onto one another while staring back at each other. "I love you," you couldn't help but smile at his words. Running your fingers through his hair. Watching his eyes flutter shut and reluctantly open once more. You could easily put him to sleep by just playing with his hair. "I know you do, you have a way of telling me with your actions, always have. I love you too, mountain man." He rolled his eyes at the nickname and you chuckled. "I don't tell ya it enough, I love you. Really do. That's all I thought 'bout, too. That I don't tell ya it enough." He muttered, and you sighed. Resting your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them slightly. "Daryl, I told you. You say it without saying it. I know you do." He sighed with a nod, smiling faintly as you leant up to kiss the side of his mouth. Wanting to continue what the both of you started moments prior, but he wasn't done with his tangent. You wouldn't stop him though, you'd let him open up anytime he wanted to.

"All I could think about in there was you. If I'd see ya again. Hear ya," he spoke. "I was scared he'd.." He paused, breathing a bit heavily for a second as he thought. "Scared he'd take ya from me." "Dar', I'd go out fighting before I let him do anything to me." He chuckled, reaching up to brush some hair from your forehead. "That's what I was worried 'bout. If I lost you," "but you didn't, and I'm here. You're here. We're safe." "For now." You didn't say anything more after that. Only wrapping an arm around the back of his neck while staring up at him.

"I love you," he muttered again, and you nodded, leaning up to brush your lips against his. "I love you too, Daryl." He closed the gap between the both of you rather quick. Humming lowly into the kiss while rolling his hips against yours. Still nestled inside you.

It wasn't long before he was rolling his hips. Rolls turning into thrusts. He didn't move fast and rough like before, though. He took his time. Letting you know how much he loved and cared about you with his actions, again. His hand coming between the both of you to run his fingers between your folds. Your soft noises you released into his mouth were enough for him to continue. Lips traveling down to your neck. Leaving soft kisses and then love marks and bites. All while his fingers rubbed over your clit. Smirking softly as your hips bucked and rolled in order to chase your high, but Daryl didn't let you. No, not at first. He was dragging this out as long as he could.

"Wanna cum with ya," he muttered, kissing your collar bone with a groan. "Then do it," a growl left his throat at your words. Hips finally picking up to the speed the both of you were wanting. His finger rubbing a bit rougher on your bud. Not too harsh, but just enough it had your back arching off the bed. Hands grasping at him to ground yourself. One hand Tangling in his hair while the other clawed at his back. His lips came crashing on yours. Muffling the noises the both of you made as your bodies met their high.

You were the first to go, Daryl following right after. He came inside of you, but you didn't care. Not right now, at least. That was a problem to deal with later. Right now it was all about you and him. Holding each other after your highs became lows and you were both back on earth.

He pulled out, slowly. Doing his best not to hurt you, or himself in the overstimulated discomfort you were both in. "Wow," he looked at you with a brow raised as he used a Kleenex to wipe you both up. "I don't think we've fucked that hard in a while," you chuckled, and he chuckled back. Tossing the napkin into the bin before crawling back over you. A hand cupping the side of your face with a hum. "Ya tellin' me I only fuck good when one's of us nearly dies?" He asked, pressing a kiss to your lips. You shook your head, rubbing at his chest. "No, 'course not, we've just been..." "Busy?" You nodded, kissing him again. "Yeah," he sighed.

He finally laid next to you after tugging his shirt back on. Letting you pull your own and your underwear back on as well. Daryl kept the shirt on so no one would see his scars beside you. You were mostly dressed so if anything happened no one would see you nude. A precaution to keep both your and Daryl's minds easy.

Daryl pulled your body close to his own. Strong arms wrapped safely around your waist. "How 'bout we blame it on Rick." he muttered, and your brows furrowed, an amused smile on your lips. "What? Our sad sex life before today?" He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Yeah. He's always got us doin' stuff. No time for me to fuck ya." You snorted, rolling your eyes while swatting at his chest. "Shut up and go to sleep, Dixon." He smiled, pulling your closer while resting his chin atop your head. "Love you," you smiled, kissing his throat with a tired sigh. "I love you, too. I'm glad you're safe and home." "Me too, darlin'."

#daryl dixon #Daryl Dixon x reader #Daryl Dixon smut #the walking dead #two x reader #x reader #this was purely self indulgent #If you like it #that's a plus

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 9 months

Text

Found You- Part 4

Summary: Nearly 10 years ago, you left home after a bad incident with your parents, Rick and Lori Grimes. In that time, you married a redneck down south and started a family. But it all came crashing down when the dead started to walk.

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: language, violence, blood

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

A/N- To the beautiful woman who has commissioned this mini series, thank you! And I hope you enjoy this new part.

*Months Later*

It had started out as a normal, average day in Alexandria, but life as you knew it turned from peaceful to chaotic within the span of 24 hours.

"Boys, breakfast!" Daryl shouted over his shoulder while flipping pancakes from the frying pan to the plate.

The word 'breakfast' was like a trigger word in the Grimes-Dixon house because every single resident suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Daryl rolled his eyes but didn't stop the greedy hands stealing pancakes from the stack while you stood beside him making your sons sandwiches for school.

"I'll never get sick of waking up to this." Michonne commented, leaning between you both to take a couple pancakes from the bench.

"You and me both." Your father agreed, the two of them vanishing with the food just as quickly as they had appeared.

"They're a little on the burnt side, baby brother." Merle commented walking out the kitchen with a pancake in his hand.

"Make 'em yourself then!" Daryl shot back.

"I think they're good." Little Dean piped up shoving one of the pancakes in his mouth.

"Thanks, kiddo." Daryl smiled, reaching down to ruffle his son's hair. "Why don't ya put it in a bowl ‘n pour some syrup over it? Not too much though."

You put the knife down and pulled out two bowls from the cabinet above your head before holding them out to Dean. He flopped his bitten pancake into one of the bowls before grabbing a few more pancakes from the stack. He evenly divided up the food in the two bowls, one for him and one for his brother like he did every morning.

You went back to cutting up the sandwiches while watching Dean out the corner of your eye with the syrup to make sure he didn't drown the pancakes in too much sugar. But after all this time he seemed to have finally mastered the right amount of syrup to pancake ratio.

Ricky walked into the kitchen a couple minutes later and sat down at the table beside Dean who slid his bowl of pancakes over which Ricky eagerly started to eat, mumbling a 'thank you' with his mouth full of food.

"Ricky, what time-" You started to say before he cut you off.

"I don't wanna be called Ricky anymore." He announced, putting his fork down and looking over at you across the kitchen.

You paused mid slice through the bread before you glanced over at Daryl who met your gaze with an equally confused and surprised expression.

"Okay." You said slowly while turning to give him your full attention. "What do you want to be called?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "dunno."

"Your proper name is Richard." Daryl said, putting the frying pan in the sink before turning to face the boys. "What 'bout that?"

Ricky scrunched his face up, "doesn't Richard mean Dick?"

Merle's laughter echoed out from the lounge room at his nephew’s words but you pointily ignored the eldest Dixon and looked back over at your son.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Carl." Ricky answered, looking down at his empty bowl with an unreadable expression.

"Carl! Get in here!" You shouted, folding your arms across your chest as you leant back against the bench and a few seconds later you brother walked into the room.

"What?" He mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes like he had only just gotten out of bed.

"Why did you tell my son that Richard means Dick?"

That questioned seemed to snap Carl out of his tiredness and he stood up a bit straighter as his eyes swept between you, the boys, Daryl and back to you before he sighed.

"He was talking about not wanting to be called Ricky. I thought it was better for him to hear it from me rather than some other kid at school."

Ricky rolled his eyes, "you just wanted to end the conversation so you could go make out with Enid."

Daryl quickly covered up his laugh with a fake cough and you smirked behind your hand as Carl's eyes widened like his biggest secret had just been exposed. That kid definitely had a crush on this Enid girl.

"He's always hanging around Enid." Dean informed, looking over at you and Daryl.

"I am not." Carl exclaimed defensively.

"Isn't she dating Ron anyway? Why do you spend so much time with her?" Ricky questioned.

"I'm not discussing this with a couple of children."

"Children?" Ricky repeated, with a small chuckle of disbelief. "I'm not even two years younger than you and could kick your ass."

“In your dreams."

"Okay. Let's go." Ricky abruptly stood up from his chair, but Daryl was quick to move and stepped forward, grabbing his son by the back of his shirt.

"Alright, that's enough." Daryl ordered.

"We don't fight with family." You stated, pushing yourself away from the bench and walking over to them.

"Dad and Uncle Merle fight all the time." Ricky grumbled.

"Uncle Merle and I argue all the time. But we don't physically fight." Daryl explained, pushing Ricky back down into his chair.

Merle chose that moment to walk back into the kitchen with a shit eating grin. He opened his mouth about to correct Daryl and inform the kids that the two of them had definitely fought physically while they were younger and even when they were adults, but you quickly pointed at him and gave him a stern look causing Merle to snap his mouth shut instantly.

"We don't fight family. Okay? There's too much we have to fight these days, we shouldn't be fighting each other too." You simply explained, looking between the Dixons and Carl. "Now, Carl come get some breakfast. Boys put your bowls in the sink and go get changed for school."

"Thanks, and I'm sorry." Carl apologised, looking over at Ricky.

"Sorry too." Ricky replied.

Carl nodded before he swiped a few pancakes from the plate on the bench before he walked out the kitchen and went back upstairs to his bedroom.

"You would've won the fight." Dean whispered, leaning over to his brother.

Ricky smirked a little and Daryl snorted as the boys stood up and put their dishes in the sink before wandering off to go get ready for school.

Merle watched them walk off before he turned back towards the two of you, "they're definitely Dixons."

"I don't know if that's a good thing." You sighed, picking up the knife to finish cutting the sandwiches into triangles.

"It probably ain't. But it's funny as fuck." Merle responded.

Daryl rolled his eyes, "don't ever tell 'em about the fights we used to have."

"So, I shouldn't bring up the time you kicked me in the nuts, and I gave you a bloody nose when we were their age?" Merle asked, although by the sheepish tone in his voice it was clear he already knew the answer.

"Never tell that story." You said over your shoulder.

"Oh, come on. It had a nice ending. We made up 'n went squirrel hunting... then nearly got lost in the woods, but we made it back in one piece."

"Barely." Daryl muttered, walking over to the sink to start washing the dishes.

"I got the dishes. You get your brother out the house before I throw this peanut butter sandwich at him." You instructed, wrapping one of the sandwiches while Merle snickered from across the kitchen.

"On it." Daryl replied, leaning over and placing a gentle kiss to your temple before he walked out the kitchen, grabbing his brother's arm along the way and dragging him out the room.

You chuckled softly under your breath, wrapping the last sandwich before placing them both on the kitchen table for your sons to grab soon. You got to quick work with the dishes and your father wandered back in with his and Michonne’s plates and grabbed a towel to help.

You handed your father a bowl which he took and began to dry off with a towel, but your eyes lingered on the butterfly stitches still covering the worst of the cuts on his face after the fight he had with Pete not too long ago.

Pete had been dangerous. He needed to be stopped and although a lot of the civilians in town were now fearful and untrusting of your father, you backed him 100% for what he did. Pete had to be stopped, so Rick killed him. It was as simple as that.

"How's the face?" You asked, eyeing the still healing bruises and cuts.

"It's probably seen better days." Your dad admitted with a chuckle. "It's fine though, doesn't hurt."

You nodded satisfied with that answer before you went back to washing the last bowl in the sink before pulling the plug to drain the water.

"Did Daryl tell you that we're doing a test run today?" Rick asked a few seconds later.

“Yeah. Are you sure you don't need me out there? I can help."

"I know you can." Rick smiled, putting the bowl down to look at you. "But we need to keep a few fighters here to look after everyone."

You sighed but didn't argue any further.

A few days prior Rick discovered a giant horde of walkers stuck in the quarry not too far from town. The horde were trapped inside by two semi-trucks blocking the exit, but apparently the trucks looked very close to shifting and once they did, that horde would be led straight to Alexandria.

A horde that size would barge straight through the walls, destroying everything.

So, a plan was set.

With Daryl on his bike, and Merle and Abraham in a car, they were going to lead the horde 20 miles away in the opposite direction. Rick had put together another group to be on either side of the horde and redirecting the dead if they started to veer off track.

The plan sounded simple enough, but you knew it had the possibility of turning south at the drop of a hat.

"Fresh coffee anyone?" Carol asked from somewhere behind you.

You turned around to find the woman standing by the bench pouring herself a cup of coffee. How long has she been standing there for?

"I'd love one, thanks." You wiped your hands on the end of Ricks towel before walking over to Carol who handed you a mug with a gentle smile.

You took a sip of the coffee before making your way out the front door to enjoy the warm drink peacefully on the porch.

"You got a better idea bro?" Daryl's voice snapped.

You looked up to find him and Merle by the motorcycle on the road in front of the house. Daryl was knelt beside the bike and seemed to be securing something with a cable tie while Merle stood behind him with a disapproving scowl.

"Yeah. Don't fucking break it next time."

"Real fuckin' helpful, thanks." Daryl muttered, glaring up at his brother over his shoulder.

Well, so much for drinking your coffee in peaceful silence.

Ricky suddenly walked out the front door with his backpack in his hand, "can I help?"

You looked over at the brothers by the bike before glancing through the front window at the clock on the wall inside the house.

"Only for a few minutes otherwise you'll be late for school." You explained.

"Come hold this for me. You'll be better help then your one-armed uncle over here." Daryl muttered, pointing the spanner at Merle.

"Screw you too." Merle responded.

Ricky dropped his backpack by your feet before running down the porch steps eager to help his dad with the bike. You leant against the railing sipping on your coffee while you watched the three of them together.

Daryl was patient, explaining things to Ricky while he worked, and your son nodded along with a hard look of concentration on his face trying to soak it all in.

"Ricky forgot his sandwich." Dean's voice suddenly said.

You glanced over your shoulder to find your youngest walking out the door with his backpack over his shoulders and his brother’s sandwich in his hand. He spotted Rickys bag by your feet and unzipped it, placing the sandwich inside without having to be asked and you smiled proudly at him.

"Thanks, sweetie. You ready for school?"

Dean nodded, "Carl already left though. He went out the back door."

Carl always walked to school with Ricky and Dean. Why would he sneak out the back door without them?

"He's ditching us for Enid." Dean further explained noticing your confusion.

Of course, he was.

"I can walk you boys to school if you want?"

"It's just down the road, mama." Dean rolled his eyes like your offer was totally ridiculous and you smiled softly at his reaction, but sorta hurt at the same time.

When did your boys get so grown up? It wasn't that long ago you were pushing them around in strollers before the dead were walking.

Time was going too quick.

"Can I just be called Rick? Like Grandpa?" Ricky suddenly said, standing up from where he had been kneeling beside the bike. He looked between Daryl and Merle before glancing over at you with wide hopeful eyes wanting your approval.

"Of course, sweetie. Rick is a good name, isn't it?" You said, glancing down at Dean who nodded.

"I think Rick is a mighty fine name." Your father suddenly said, walking out the front door with Judith in his arms.

"Of course, you do. You're bias." You replied quietly over your shoulder before looking back at Ricky. "You boys should head to school before you're late."

Dean quickly grabbed his brothers backpack before racing down the porch steps and jogging over to him. Ricky grabbed the bag, slinging it over his shoulders before they both waved goodbye as they walked down the street.

"Have a good day!" You shouted after them.

You leant back against the porch railing and watched your boys until they disappeared around the corner in the direction of school.

"Are you able to watch Judith? I gotta talk with Tobin and the others before doing the test run." Rick suddenly said, walking over to you.

"Of course."

He handed you the little girl who had gotten a lot bigger since you first arrived at Alexandria. Why were they all growing up so fast?

"Dixon’s, you good to head out in 20?" Rick asked, walking down the porch towards them and they both nodded.

"I'll go tell Abe and the others." Merle said, already making his way to the house next door.

Daryl continued to tinker away with his bike, and you finally got to enjoy some peacefulness with your morning coffee. Judith sat on your hip while you sipped away at your coffee enjoying the beautiful morning.

You sat down on the porch swing and bounced Judith on your knee. Your baby sister babbled away happily with not a care in the world. She had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow with the horde. So much could go wrong. So much could-

"Stop." Daryl's voice suddenly called out, snapping you from your thoughts.

He walked up the porch steps wiping grease from his hands before tucking the red rag into his back pocket and sitting down beside you.

"I can hear you thinkin'. Stop." He elaborated.

"I just have a bad feeling about this."

"It's gonna be fine. That's why Rick wants to do this test run today. If we find any issues with the plan, we will fix 'em before tomorrow."

Daryl pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his vest and lit one with his zippo before taking a deep drag. He exhaled the smoke with a turn of his head and held the burning cigarette away from Judith who was still in your lap and now fiddling with the dog tags around your neck.

"There's nothin' to worry 'bout." Daryl reassured.

You nodded, "I guess you're right.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence with your coffee and cigarette while Judith cooed and babbled softly to herself. Once Daryl finished his cigarette he reached over and picked up Judith from your lap and held the little girl against his chest, and you weren't surprised when she fell asleep against him almost instantly.

"I kinda miss the boys being this small." He randomly commented.

You glanced over at him taking in Judiths sleeping form and Daryl’s warm smile as he rubbed her back soothingly.

"They look cute as babies, but at least now we don't have any diapers to change or 3am feedings with the boys." You pointed out.

"That stuff ain't so bag."

You raised your eyebrows, "yeah? I'll tell my dad that and he'll have you on diaper duty for Judith."

Daryl snorted softly and opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t get the chance.

"Ready to get this show on the road?" Abraham's voice called out.

You looked up to find the redhead and Merle walking out the house next door. Daryl sighed but stood up and you did as well before he gently handed Judith back to you, the little girl still fast asleep.

"I'll see you later. Be safe." You said, leaning over and placing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Carol's making a casserole for dinner. Try not to be late."

Daryl smiled, kissing you again before pulling away, his hand on your shoulder.

"Yes, ma'am."

You rocked Judith in your arms and watched Daryl join up with Merle and Abe before they walked away in the direction of the main gate where Rick and the others were no doubt waiting.

"I think Ron blames me for his father’s death. He hates me now." Jessie admitted with a heavy sigh.

You and Carol had decided to check in on Jessie after Pete's very public death recently. She was relieved that her abusive husband was dead, but her eldest son wasn't too happy.

"He'll come around." You reassured, not really knowing what else to say in this situation.

"How do you know?"

That was a good question.

You didn't know. You didn't know Jessie or Ron very well. But you had forgiven your father. The situations were drastically different, but if you could forgive Rick after spending over a decade hating him, you were sure Ron could forgive his mother.

"How do I know?" You repeated and Jessie nodded. "Because I used to hate Rick."

Jessie's eyes widened into saucers at your words, but you weren't going to tell her the details of that. It was none of her business and you and Rick had moved on.

"Why did you hate him? Rick is such a nice man. He's always so kind and helpful, and I know a few people are weary of him after he killed Pete, but don't worry, I'm not. Rick is a good man."

Right, you had forgotten about Jessie's massive crush on your father.

And now you remembered why you avoided hanging out with her. It felt like the real housewives whenever you hang out with her and the other mothers of Alexandria, all they did was gossip and talk about how attractive Rick Grimes was. You hated it.

"He is a good man, isn't he Y/N?" Carol responded, glancing over at you while hiding her smirk behind a coffee mug.

She knew you didn't like Jessie when she talked about your father. It was just weird listening to a woman gush and swoon over Rick like he was some kind of movie star.

You nodded, trying to play nice, "he is."

"He really is. You're both lucky to have him in your lives. I'll admit, I wasn't too sure of him when you all first showed up, but once he shaved that beard... oh, boy." Jessie continued to ramble, but you drained out her words and turned your attention to Judith who was playing with her toys on the carpet.

"Y/N?"

You looked up to find Jessie standing in the doorway. You hadn’t even realised that she got off the couch.

"I was just saying if Rick ever needs his hair cut, can you tell him that I'll be happy to do it?" She said with a bright smile before she walked out the room.

"I wonder why." You muttered under your breath.

Carol chuckled from the other couch, "give her a break. She just has a little crush on him."

"A little?"

"Okay. A big crush."

"It's gross." You responded.

Carol smirked, "it's entertaining."

"Well, I'm glad my uncomfortableness is entertaining for you." You said sarcastically.

Carol rolled her eyes before standing up from the couch and picking Judith up from the ground. "I'm gonna start making that casserole for dinner."

You quickly stood up too, "don't you dare leave me here with my dad’s wannabe lover."

"It'll be rude if we both just suddenly leave." Carol pointed out.

Yeah. That was true.

Jessie finally returned with a fresh cup of coffee but paused when she noticed you both standing.

"Sorry I-" Carol started to say but you cut her off.

"Sorry I need to go. Now that Pete is gone, it's just me and Denise with some form of medical background. I should go see how she's going. Bye."

You were out the door before either woman could say anything else. Was that rude? Probably. But if you had to sit there and deal with Jessie's over friendliness towards you just because of her crush on your dad, you would snap.

So, you began to make your way down the street because your excuse to leave was actually true. Neither you nor Denise were qualified to be a doctor, but you were the only choice Alexandria had.

You walked through the front door of the infirmary to find Denise sitting on the floor with an open book in her lap and thicker medical textbooks stacked up beside her.

"Hey. How are you doing?"

Denise looked up at your voice, pushing her glasses back in place as she gave you a tight smile.

"I'm okay... it's hard being the new doctor. I'm a little nervous." She admitted.

"I might not be as trained as you, but I still have some medical training and I'm always here to help."

Your words seemed to relax the other woman slightly as she closed the book in her lap and looked up at you properly.

"I'm a psychiatrist. I went to med school. I was even going to be a surgeon, but after the panic attacks I got really interested in psychology. Now I wish I had stuck to being a surgeon." She chuckled nervously. "I'm really trying to lower expectations here."

You smiled, "you and me both. But we can learn and get better together. What are you studying at the moment?"

"Veins and arteries." She answered, picking up the textbook. "Not very exciting."

"Well, let's make it exciting."

The next 30 minutes were spent sitting on the floor of the infirmary together studying the textbook about veins and arteries which, yeah, wasn't that exciting, but Denise appreciated the help.

Denise began writing a cheat sheet on a blackboard and you grabbed a piece of chalk to help her when sudden screaming erupted from outside.

"What the hell?" Denise questioned, looking up from the cheat sheet in confusion.

You were already on your feet and rushing to the window to see what was happening. Your mouth parted in a silent scream when you saw a man standing in the middle of the street cutting the limbs from a dead body on the road.

What the fuck?

A woman suddenly ran screaming from her house across the road, catching the man’s attention and you watched in horror as he threw the axe at her, the blade spearing straight through her chest. Another man marched out the very same house with a knife in his hand, no doubt the reason why she had been screaming in the first place and the man grinned when he saw her dead body.

Holy fuck.

Alexandria was under attack.

"What's going on out- Oh my God!" Denise shrieked, seeing the bodies across the street.

Both men spun around at her voice, and you quickly covered her mouth with your hand and pulled her down below the window out of sight. You held Denise in front of you, neither of you daring to speak. Denise kept her petrified eyes locked with yours and you slowly lowered your hand from her mouth before putting an index finger to your lips in a hushing motion.

Denise nodded ever so slightly before you lifted your head and peaked out the window to find both men marching towards the infirmary. You quickly reached for your knife, but nothing was there.

Looking down you came to the horrible realisation that you had forgotten to put your weapons belt on this morning. It was still sitting on the desk in your bedroom. You hadn’t even thought about it, hell, if you were being honest, you probably hadn’t worn it for a while. You had become complacent in Alexandria. Too complacent.

You spared a quick glance to the front door but knew there wasn’t enough time to lock it.

Shit.

"They're coming. I need a weapon." You whispered, your eyes frantically scanning the room for anything you could use before Denise grabbed a scalpel off the bench beside her.

"I-I can't fight. I don't know how.”

You took the tool from her and stood up, ushing her across the room, "hide in the back room. Use the scissors on the desk and stab anyone who enters. Got it?"

You didn’t wait for her to answer before you closed the door, shutting her away safely before you ducked down behind one of the gurneys just as the front door slammed open.

The men slowly entered, surveying the room as they walked around. You watched their boots from under the gurney, the scalpel gripped tightly in your hand.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are. We know you're in here."

One of them began walking in your direction and you raised the scalpel in front of you defensively. Just as the man stepped past the gurney, you stabbed the blade through his thigh, sliding it in deep to hit the artery.

The man shouted in pain, and you yanked the scalpel out, relieved when blood instantly started to gush from the wound. You jumped to your feet and sprinted across the room away from him and only just managed to duck out the way when his axe came flying through the air. It whizzed past your head and imbedded into the wall behind you with a loud bang.

The man began to rush towards you, but only made it a few steps before his body collapsed to the ground from blood loss, his entire pant leg stained a deep crimson.

The commotion caught the other guy’s attention because he walked out the small room he had been searching and froze when he saw his friend lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. His dark eyes flashed over to you and his expression hardened.

"You're fucking dead."

You spun around and grabbed the wooden handle of the axe to pull it from the wall, but it was stuck. You could hear the man getting closer behind you as you pulled and yanked at the axe, but it wouldn't budge.

His footsteps thundered behind you, and you ducked to the left and turned to face him just as the man swung his knife but missed and stumbled forward from the momentum of the swing not expecting you to dodge it. You slashed the scalpel across his throat and jumped backwards trying to put some distance between you.

The man opened his mouth, but no words came out as he grabbed his neck just as blood began to flow from the thin but lethal cut. He gasped and choked, blood seeping between his fingers at his failing attempt to stop the flow, and within a minute, he was dead on the floor.

You quickly knelt and pried the knife from his hand before stabbing the blade through his skull to stop him from turning.

"Denise, it's all clear. You can come out!" You shouted, walking over to the other guy who was now also dead, and you stabbed his head too.

The door to the back room creaked open and Denise hesitantly stepped out with the scissors gripped in her hand tightly. Her eyes flashed between you and the dead bodies in pure shock.

"How-how did you do that?" She stuttered.

"Femoral artery." You said pointing at the first guy before pointing to the other. "And carotid arteries. Turns out that textbook was actually useful."

Denise just stared at you in shock before shaking her head and letting out a hysterical laugh. You smiled, laughing with her. Nothing about this was even remotely funny, but you couldn't help it.

"Do you think there's more?" She asked once she managed to stop laughing.

Your stomach dropped.

The boys.

The clock on the wall told you that school was finished for the day. Where would your kids be?

"I have to find my kids."

"What do I do?"

"Stay here. Lock the door behind me." You instructed and Denise nodded following you to the front door. "I'll come back as soon as I can."

"Go. Be careful." She replied, giving you a nervous smile before you walked out the door and she hurriedly locked it behind you.

You ducked around the side of the infirmary and jogged around the back of Alexandria along the fence line behind the houses, using the buildings as cover compared to the open main street. People were still screaming, and you wanted to help them, but not until you knew your boys were safe. They were the only things that mattered.

Suddenly a crash boomed across the community and the tall wall beside you shuttered before a very loud horn sounded and didn't turn off.

Where the hell was that coming from?

You didn't get long to wonder what was happening because the next thing you knew, your body was slammed into the metal wall, hard. You threw your arm back, trying to stab whoever was attacking you, but they knocked the weapon from your grasp.

The person spun you around, your back now pinned to the wall and you came face to face with a 'W' scarred into the man’s forehead.

Wait... Daryl told you about the people that jumped him and Aaron during their last run out the walls, he said they had W's on their heads. This had to be them.

The man in front of you snarled, exposing his crooked yellow teeth before his hands wrapped around your neck tightly.

He lifted your body until your feet weren’t touching the ground, your back pressed against the wall behind you. The fingers around your throat were like a vice getting tighter and tighter by the second.

The horn was still blasting loudly in the background, drowning out the screams of civilians and you stared at the scarred W, thinking this was the end.

Daryl hadn't been expecting to lead a horde of walkers away from Alexandria today.

The test run had turned into the real thing when one of the trucks blocking the horde in the quarry tipped over and that was all it took for the horde to spill out.

The plan was simple enough. He just had to ride his bike alongside Merle and Abraham in their car, leading the horde down the main road in the opposite direction of Alexandria. The others were going to be on either side of the horde, stopping any stragglers from wandering off and leading the horde away from the road.

It was a simple plan.

So how the fuck did it go so wrong?

Daryl had no idea, but there was shouting and commotion coming from the walkie talkie strapped to his shoulder and he had no clue what was going on.

"Rick!" He shouted into the walkie, raising his voice above the loud rumble of his bike's engine and growls from the dead behind him.

"I'm here."

"What's goin' on back there?"

"Half of them broke off. They're going toward Alexandria." Rick responded through the walkie.

Daryl's heart skipped a beat. Half of the walkers were now heading towards Alexandria? Towards his wife and kids? How did half the horde suddenly turn back around in the opposite direction?

"Towards you?" Abraham's voice questioned over the radio.

"We ran ahead. There's a horn or something loud coming from the east. It's not stopping."

Daryl reached for the walkie on his shoulder and held in the button before shouting, "I'm gonna gas it up, turn back."

"We have it. You keep going." Rick ordered.

Daryl gritted his teeth and shook his head. No, he couldn't just keep going, not when his family were in danger.

"They're gonna need our help." He said instead.

"Gotta keep the herd moving!" Rick insisted over the radio.

"Not if it's goin' down, we don't!"

"The rest of that herd turns around, the bad back there gets worse."

Daryl kept his hand on the walkie, but remained silent as a million different thoughts and scenarios ran through his head and he had absolutely no idea what to do. Rick always called the shots and Daryl usually agreed, but not with this. Not when you and the boys were back in Alexandria where half the herd were heading.

"Daryl?" Rick called through the radio.

"Yeah, I heard ya." He reassured before dropping his hand with a heavy sigh.

He glanced over his shoulder at the herd of walkers behind him before looking over at his brother in the passenger seat of the car. Merle was already looking straight at him with a shake of his head, knowing exactly what Daryl wanted to do.

He rode the bike over closer to the car, "hey! We gone five miles out yet?"

"Give or take some yardage. You got a reason for asking?" Abraham questioned, glancing over at him from behind the wheel.

Merle was still shaking his head, but Daryl chose to ignore it.

"Next intersection we're gonna spin around 'n go back."

"We have our orders, baby brother." Merle reminded. "The plan is to go 15 more."

"Yeah, I'm gonna change that. Five's gonna have to work."

"The magic number's 20. That's the mission. That's making sure they're off munching on infirm raccoons the rest of their undead lives instead of any of us." Abe responded sternly.

"You wanna go, ain't no way we can stop ya. But without you, they could stop us." Merle pointed out, motioning towards the dead behind them. "Y/N can take care of herself. Alexandria will be fine."

Daryl glanced between the two men in the car for a moment before focusing back on the road ahead, deep in thought.

What the hell was he meant to do?

He couldn’t just not do anything when his wife and kids were going to be in danger. And why was a horn honking near Alexandria? Something was definitely wrong, he could feel it in his gut, but he couldn't just leave his brother and Abraham to do this by themselves, could he?

He remained silent, riding the bike for another minute beside the car when his eyes caught a glimpse of an old, faded Alexandria sign on the side of the road from the old days, and that was all the convincing he needed.

"Nah, I got faith in ya!" Daryl shouted, sparing one last glance at his brother and Abraham before he turned the throttle and sped off down the road.

"Daryl!" Merle yelled, but he was already gone.

The man’s bruising grip around your neck was getting tighter. Your vision was starting to fade as you tried and failed to pry his fingers away.

You were going to die. This was it.

"Get away from our mum, asshole!"

A gunshot cracked through the air and the man choking you instantly released you with a cry of pain.

Without him holding you up, you collapsed to the ground on your hands and knees gasping and coughing trying to get air back into your lungs as you grabbed your tender neck.

“Touch her again, I shoot you again.” A familiar voice warned.

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. But standing off to the left was Ricky with a handgun drawn and Dean beside him with his slingshot raised.

Holy shit.

The big man that had been choking you was standing to the side holding his now bleeding arm, but his hard eyes were locked in on Ricky. You reached blindly for your knife that you had dropped earlier just as the man began to charge straight at the kids.

“NO!” You screamed jumping to your feet just as Ricky squeezed the trigger.

The man stumbled back a step grabbing his chest before dropping to the ground, dead.

Ricky killed him.

You quickly picked up your knife from the grass before stabbing him through the skull to make sure he didn’t turn.

"Mama!" Dean called, rushing over and before you could do anything, he flung his arms around your midsection and hugged you tightly.

You sighed with relief and hugged him back before glancing over at Ricky who was still standing there with a trembling gun pointed at the dead man.

You released Dean and slowly walked over to Ricky. His eyes were wide and hands shaking while he stared down at the dead body in pure shock.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay. Give me the gun.” You said gently, carefully reaching down and grabbing the top of the Glock before slowly pulling it out of Rickys grasp. “That’s it. It’s okay. We’re all okay.”

Ricky nodded, his wide eyes finally shifting away from the body until bright blue met your hazel eyes.

“I shot the hell out of that guy, huh?”

You snorted softly at his choice of words before kneeling in front of him and grabbing his shoulder with your free hand.

“You did the right thing, kiddo. You saved us.”

“I just did what dad and Grandpa would’ve done.” Ricky mumbled, shrugging his shoulders like he was trying not to make this a big deal.

It was a big deal though.

He just killed his first person. It was a huge deal, and if the way his body trembled a little in your hold told you anything, he knew it too. Although, like a true Dixon, he wasn’t going to say it.

"Are you okay?" Ricky asked, his eyes shifting down to your neck that was probably already starting to bruise.

You nodded looking both boys in front of you up and down for any injuries, but they seemed to be okay.

"I'm fine. Are you both okay?"

Ricky nodded, glancing over at his little brother, "we're good."

“Where did you get the gun?”

“Rosita.”

“Rosita?” You repeated in confusion and Ricky nodded. “Where is she now?”

“Fighting. She gave me the gun and told us to run and hide.”

"Why are they attacking Alexandria?" Dean asked, glancing over at the dead body.

"Because they are bad men. Really bad men. So, I need you both to be brave for me, okay?"

They instantly nodded before you stood back up and walked over to the dead man. You went through his pockets trying to find anything useful before locating a pocketknife.

Better than nothing.

"Dean, here. To open the pocketknife, you flick the blade open with your thumb just like this.” You demonstrated, holding the knife out and opening it in front of him. “To close it, you do this. So, open, like this. And close like this. Here you try.”

Dean quickly tucked his slingshot in through his belt and grabbed the pocketknife before repeating your actions to open and close the knife with ease.

“Perfect. Good boy. If you have to use it, stab 'em with the pointy end." You instructed and Dean nodded before you held your hunting knife out to Ricky who took it without hesitation. “You okay?” You asked carefully, knowing that killing a man wasn’t easy, especially for a kid.

“I’m good. What’s the plan?” Ricky asked, determination on his face.

“We're going to our house. We’ll be moving quickly and quietly, so stick to me like glue."

"Like glue." They both repeated.

You nodded, "c'mon."

To your relief, the boys listened and were right behind you with each step as you rushed around the back of Alexandria in the direction of your house.

Not even 10 steps later, you ducked down behind a cluster of bushes, pulling your sons down beside you when a man with a machete stepped out the back door of a house.

Droplets of blood beaded down the stained blade while the man stormed around the side of the house, heading for the main road completely oblivious to you three hiding nearby.

The boys remained silent beside you, their wide eyes watching the bad man nervously and once he was out of sight you motioned for them to follow before continuing to make your way to your house.

Ricky and Dean followed you like shadows all the way to the house and you opened up the back door only to be met with a barrel of a rifle.

"Easy. Easy. It's me." You hurriedly said, raising your hands as you looked over the gun at your brother.

His eyes widened and he quickly lowered it before stepping to the side letting you three into the house. You locked the back door behind you before glancing around the house, realising that Carl was alone.

"Where are the others?"

"Judith is locked in her room. Carol is out there somewhere, and Dads group isn't back yet." Carl answered.

Shit. Okay. That meant most of Alexandria’s fighters weren't here.

Carol, Maggie, Rosita, Tara and Aaron. Were they the only others left in the town that could fight? Surely there were others that could fight. There had to be.

"Okay. You boys stay inside, guard the house and protect Judith." You ordered.

Carl nodded, "nobody is getting inside this house."

"Wait, you're not going back out there, are you?" Dean asked in sudden panic.

"That woman nearly killed you." Ricky reminded.

"I have to go. These attackers don't have guns, so I can't let them find the armoury." You explained because if these people found all the guns, the community was screwed.

"Then I'll come with you." Ricky responded.

"No. You need to stay here. Give me the knife and take this.” You said, holding out the Glock towards him.

“But you need it.”

“I’ll get a gun from the armoury. Take it. Protect Judith and protect each other, okay?"

Your eldest looked like he wanted to argue further but realised now was not the time, so he reluctantly nodded trading the knife for the Glock before you glanced over at Carl.

"We got this." Your brother insisted. "Go."

"Lock it behind me." You instructed, walking through the back door once again.

You didn't leave until you heard the click of the bolt confirming that the door was locked.

The armoury was priority number one.

You needed to secure the armoury, get a gun and then find the others. One-on-one against these guys would be bad but if you were together, you'd stand a chance.

The loud honking had finally stopped, but you barely noticed while you ran along the side of the house, peaking out into the main street.

There were a few attackers running around with various melee weapons, but none had any guns. Good.

Once the attackers had turned their backs, you sprinted along the side of the street while they weren’t looking. You ducked and weaved out of trees and bushes for cover until someone suddenly stepped out from behind a porch and yanked you behind the porch steps.

You raised your knife to attack the person, but then they quickly lowered the bandana from their face and removed the black hood over their head.

"Carol?" You whispered in shock.

She was wearing their clothes and had W painted on her forehead with what looked to be blood. She was camouflaging with them. Genius.

"It's me. Here."

She pulled out a scoped rifle from her shoulder which you quickly grabbed, pulling the bolt back to check the chamber before throwing it over your shoulder with the strap.

"You went to the armoury?" You asked as she pulled out a handgun and handed it over as well.

"Yeah, it's secure. Olivia is locked inside with a gun to shoot anyone who tries to enter." She explained like she could read your mind. "There's not many left. Morgan doesn’t want to kill them, but you can."

Wait, Morgan was back? Why was he back and not the others?

"You can count on me." You replied, figuring those questions could wait.

Carol handed over spare magazines which you hastily pocketed before a scream across the street caught your attention.

You leant out from behind the porch step and quickly pulled the rifle from your shoulders when you spotted a woman sprinting from a man with a knife.

Holding the butt of the gun securely against your shoulder, you lined up the crosshairs of the scope with the man before aiming slightly in front of him and squeezing the trigger.

"Nice shot." Carol observed from beside you as the man's body fell to the ground, dead. "I can blend in with these people, but I need you up high with that sniper. Can you do that?"

You glanced up at the house behind you noting the upstairs window. That would work.

"Give me a minute to get into place and I'll be your sniper."

Carol nodded before you jumped to your feet and rushed up the porch steps into a stranger’s house. You had no idea whose house this was, but it didn't matter. Nobody was inside and within a minute, you had the window open on the second floor with the sniper raised.

Carol was still hidden by the porch steps waiting for you to get into position. You weren't entirely sure how to signal to her that you were ready, but when you spotted another attacker across the street, you lined up the sights and fired a shot.

The man, like the other, instantly fell to the ground, dead.

A few seconds later, Carol dashed across the street and stabbed her knife into the two men you had just killed, hitting their brains so they couldn't come back to life.

You watched Carol through the scope as she made her way around the community camouflaging in with the attackers and stabbing them when they least expected it, and the ones that fought back, you easily shot.

She was badass. No other word for it.

During your time in Alexandria, Carol had been playing the 'innocent housewife' she had the whole community of Alexandria fooled into thinking that she was a weak defenceless woman, but you knew the truth, and despite the situation, it was nice to see her in action.

You pulled the bolt back, ejecting the empty bullet shell just when you caught a glimpse of Aaron fighting with a man down beside a house further down the road.

Actioning the bolt, you loaded a bullet in the chamber before lining up the crosshairs over the bad guy’s head, but you couldn't pull the trigger, not when Aaron was in the line of fire. He continued to fight against the man, but it was a losing battle, and he clearly knew it too.

Aaron took a swing at his attacker causing the bad man to stumble back a step at the unexpected hit and that was all you needed before you squeezed the trigger. The gunshot rung out across the community and the man fell to the ground with a bullet hole through his head.

Aaron jumped backwards in surprise, his wide eyes scanning his surroundings trying to locate where the gunshot had come from before he spotted you up in the window and he nodded his thanks. You gave him a two fingered salute before actioning the bolt again and scanning Alexandria through the scope.

"Glenn. I'm in place by my best guess. You guys make it back yet?" Ricks voice suddenly said through the radio, followed by silence. "Glenn? Tobin, you there?"

Daryl's bad feeling from earlier was worsening by the second when the others stopped responding through the radio.

"Daryl?" Rick said after a few beats of silence.

He reached for the radio with his free hand, "I'm here."

"Won't be long now." Rick explained, relief evident through his tone after someone replied to him. "They're almost here. I'll get them going your way again."

"How 'bout that, brother? He's gonna be comin' our way." Merles cocky voice suddenly said over the radio and Daryl fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"There's gunfire coming from back home." Rick suddenly said.

Daryl squeezed the brakes so hard, he nearly crashed the bike as he came to a sudden halt in the middle of the road.

"What?!" He shouted into the radio.

"There's gunfire coming from Alexandria." Rick repeated calmly. "We gotta sit with it and hope they can handle it. I think they can. They have to."

"And if they can't? Y/N is in Alexandria, Rick!" Daryl all but shouted.

"I know. But we have to keep going forward for her, for them all. Can't turn back 'cause we're afraid."

"We ain't afraid." Abraham's voice pipped up.

"Going back now before it's gone, that'd be for us." Rick continued to say.

"Man, I don't give a shit. My wife 'n kids are in trouble." Daryl snapped, unable to hold back his anger any longer as he tapped the bike into gear and sped off down the road.

He couldn't risk losing them. Not now. Not after everything you guys had survived. He couldn't. He wouldn't survive if they didn't. No way.

"You think I don't know that?!" Rick snapped back. "She might be your wife, but Y/N is my daughter. She's my little girl. I hate this as much as you do. Carl and Judith are back there too, but we have to do this for them. Y/N and the others can handle whatever is going on. I know my daughter can do it and she will. Look, the herd has to be almost here-"

Ricks voice got cut off by sudden gunfire through the walkie talkie and Daryl hastily grabbed the walkie from his shoulder, heart pounding in his chest.

"Rick? Rick?!"

When he didn't receive any answers, he skidded the motorcycle to a rapid halt in the middle of the road once again.

"Rick? Rick? Rick?" He continued to shout, but no answer.

He growled letting go of the walkie and grabbing both handlebars. His fingers tightened around them as he lowered his head and took in a few deep breaths to calm himself.

He had to go back. He had to finish the job and help lead the remaining horde away.

"Fuck!" He screamed in frustration before pulling the clutch in and turning around.

You had lost count of the number of bad guys you had shot, but by the amount of bullet casings on the floor by your feet, it was a lot.

There was no sign of anymore bad guys though. The streets of Alexandria below were finally quiet. No more screaming, no crying, no horn honking, nothing.

Was it over?

God, you hoped it was over.

Throwing the rifle over your shoulder, you stood up from your position by the window before making your way downstairs and out the house.

You walked down the main street of Alexandria with your handgun grasped firmly by your side as you took in the sight around you. Dead bodies of innocent Alexandrians littered the empty street like a massacre. The bodies of the attackers laid dead around you too, blood staining the bitumen road and once green grass of the community.

It felt like you were in a scene from a horror movie while you stepped over the dead, stabbing them all through the skulls just to be on the safe side.

"Help-help me, p-please." A weak voice suddenly called out.

Your head snapped to the side and your eyes widened when you saw one of the Alexandrian housewives laying on their front lawn in a pool of their own blood.

Fuck, that wasn't good.

You rushed over, dropping to your knees beside the woman to find a very large gash across her stomach that was bleeding heavily, too heavily. The woman reached up, grabbing your shirt for dear life, her bloodied fingers staining your white shirt a bright crimson.

"It's okay. I got you. It's okay." You reassured, pulling your unzipped jacket off before bundling it up and pressing it down against her stomach causing the woman to cry out in pain. "Shh. It's going to be fine. You're going to be fine."

That was a total lie, and she probably knew it too.

There was too much blood. Even if you could get her to the infirmary, her entire stomach was cut open and there was no way you nor Denise would be able to do that kind of surgery to fix it.

Her body was trembling below you, but you kept pressure on the large wound because you weren't sure what else to do. Although, after a couple of minutes her fingers fell from your shirt and her body stilled.

She was dead.

"Shit." You let out a shaky sigh, dropping your hands from the bloodied jumper against her stomach.

Warm blood dripped from your fingers onto the grass as you sat there on your knees unmoving while you stared down at her.

"She's gone." Morgan's voice suddenly said.

Yeah, no shit.

You glanced over your shoulder to find the man walking over to you, his wooden staff resting on his shoulder.

"I know." You sighed, "where are the others? What happened?"

"The trucks at the quarry fell. We had to do the plan now."

"Now? As in move the horde now?" You questioned in pure shock, and he nodded. "But that horn from earlier-"

"Is drawing half the herd here, right now. Yes."

"Fuck." You hissed under your breath. "What caused the horn?"

"A truck hit the front wall. Those attackers tried to break it down. It didn't work."

"Is the wall still standing?"

"It is." He nodded, and you sighed with relief.

If half that herd of walkers was heading straight for Alexandria, you needed that wall up. Although, you weren't entirely sure how useful any of these walls would be against a large herd. If enough of them pushed against it, it would break.

You slowly stood up on unsteady feet. All your adrenaline from earlier disappearing fast as the shock of this whole situation started to set in.

"Are you okay?" Morgan asked, noticing your unsteadiness.

Nope.

"Yeah."

Daryl, Rick and Merle were still out there somewhere. The street of Alexandria was covered in dead bodies. A herd of walkers were heading straight for the community. No, you definitely weren't okay.

"I gotta go." You said, already walking off in the direction of the infirmary.

There wasn't much you could do for the dead, but you could at least help Denise with the injured. However, when you stepped through the front door of the infirmary you realised that there weren’t any patients inside, alive ones at least.

Denise was halfway through covering a woman’s body with a blanket over one of the gurneys when she paused and looked up, hearing the front door open.

Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, but seemed to be determined to not let them fall as she gave you a sad smile and lowered the blanket over the blonde woman’s head.

"Is it over?" Denise asked, her voice so small you nearly missed it.

"It's over." You confirmed.

She sighed with relief before collapsing down on the stool by the bench that Tara was sitting at.

"How many are injured? I can help you guys-" Tara started to say before you cut her off.

"None. All the ones that were injured are dead. I tried to save... it doesn't matter." You sighed, looking down at your bloodstained shirt and hands.

"Some doctors we are." Denise mumbled, glancing over at the body under the blanket.

"At least you guys tried to save them. I mean, Holly had pretty bad wounds, there wasn't much you could do Denise, and Y/N, by the amount of blood on your shirt, I'm guessing there wasn't a lot you could do either, but you both still tried. That's gotta count for something." Tara insisted, looking between you both.

"I second that fact. You both are a lot braver than I am." Eugene said, speaking up for the first time across the room.

If you were being honest, you hadn't even realised the man was here which was probably very bad on your part, but it had been a long day.

Satisfied that your assistance wasn't needed in the infirmary, you returned back outside to find Michonne and a few of the others now inside Alexandria. But the relief of seeing them was only short lived.

After a brief conversation with Michonne, it was clear that the plan from earlier with the herd at the quarry went to shit. A lot of people died. Glenn and a few others were still missing. Daryl, Merle and Abraham were still trying to lead the main herd away with vehicles while Rick was out there somewhere trying to use the RV to drive the herd coming to Alexandria away.

It was chaos, and there was nothing you could do to help.

"Glenn will find a way to signal that he's alive." Michonne told Maggie.

"She's right." You backed up, looking between the two women. "He'll be fine. They all will be."

Maggie gave you a small smile as she nodded, but you could tell she was still worried. Hell, so were you, but you didn't want to say that aloud.

You wandered over to the ladder tied against the watch platform before you began to climb up to get a look at the truck that had apparently crashed into the front wall.

There was a large wooden tower-like structure just outside of Alexandria. It provided a good lookout point for the community. You had been up there many times, and it appeared that the truck the attackers were driving had crashed into the lower base of the tower before hitting the wall.

The tower now had a large crack through the middle of it but was still standing and must have slowed the truck down enough before it hit the wall because there wasn't much damage.

You had been expecting to find metal panels bent in or worse, fallen over, but the wall's structure was perfectly fine which was a miracle in itself.

"Open the gate!" A faint yet familiar voice shouted in the distance.

You turned your attention away from the tower and your jaw dropped in horror when you saw the mass number of walkers in the distance heading straight towards Alexandria.

Oh, no.

"Open the gate! Open the gate now!" Rick's voice shouted.

Wait, was he with the herd?

You quickly pulled the rifle from your back and looked through the scope towards the walkers and your stomach dropped when you spotted your father sprinting a few paces ahead of the herd, desperately trying to get to Alexandria before the dead.

"Open the gate!" You shouted, lowering the gun and looking down at Michonne and Maggie, who seemed to have already heard your fathers’ shouts and were yanking the front gate open.

Raising your rifle, you rested your head against the stock while looking through the scope towards your father only to find that a few walkers had stumbled out from the sides of the road, cutting him off.

Shit.

Without hesitation, you lined up the walkers and began to take them out one by one, creating a clear path for him to run. Rick spared a quick glance up at the watch platform noticing it was you with the rifle before he stopped trying to dodge the oncoming walkers, trusting you to take them out while he simply focused on running for his life.

The sudden pressure caused your finger to tremble against the trigger, but you made sure every single shot counted. You took the walkers down until your father finally sprinted through the front gate and the girls closed it behind him.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief, ejecting the last casing from the chamber before throwing the rifle over your shoulder and hurriedly rushing down the ladder of the watch platform.

Rick was hunched over by the gate, his hands resting on his knees as he breathed heavily, sucking in fast deep breaths. His body was trembling and covered in sweat like he had just run a marathon to get here which he probably did.

His left hand was bleeding from what appeared to be a cut on his palm, but other than that he didn't appear to have any other physical injuries.

"Dad, are you okay?" You questioned, rushing over.

Your voice had him lifting his head instantly and he stumbled a few steps towards you before he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you desperately.

"Thank God. Thank God. Thank God." He mumbled repeatedly while breathing heavily.

The hug caught you off guard, but you were quick to hug him back as you stared over his shoulder at the front gate where you were met with the rotten faces of walkers pressed against it, trying to get inside.

The sea of the dead had now reached Alexandria.

Part 5

MASTERLIST pinned to profile.

Commissions open! Link in bio & DM for enquiries

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the new part to this Grimes-Dixon mini series. Part 5 is coming soon, so stay tuned!

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #norman reedus #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #rick grimes #commissions #fanfiction commissions

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happy74827 · 9 months

Text

Lost On You

[Rick Grimes x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Drawn to his strength and resilience, you've secretly fancied the widowed sheriff turned leader. But with recent events turning his smiles into forced fake ones, all that's on your mind is to make it known that he's not alone {Takes place in Season 5}.

WC: 2067

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst

This is officially my first Walking Dead fanfic, which I'm honestly surprised hasn't happened earlier, but I've recently rewatched season five, and it made me remember just how much I love Rick. So, here we are.

『••✎••』

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the makeshift camp that had become a haven for the group after their escape from Terminus. The tension that had gripped them during their ordeal was slowly easing, and a sense of normalcy was tentatively settling in. Amid the camaraderie and relief, one person's heart was beating just a little faster than the rest – yours.

Ever since the days at the prison, you had found yourself drawn to Rick Grimes. His strength, his resilience, and the way he cared for his people… it resonated with you deeply. You found yourself admiring him from afar, with feelings growing with every shared moment. And now, as you sat by the campfire, watching Rick with Judith nestled safely in his arms, those feelings were impossible to ignore.

He changed, though. It was apparent in his eyes. Andrea had mentioned long ago how he was becoming “colder,” but you never saw it until now. Until you’ve (quite literally) were face-to-face with evil.

After the incident with Gareth and his people, Rick rarely smiled. And when he did, it was faker than Daryl’s chupacabra claim. Even when Judith giggled while tugging on his beard, or when Michonne and Carl had random competitions, he never smiled like he used to. The last time you saw him “happy” by definition was back when Hershel was still around.

Rick was no longer the man who gave you hope. You didn't know if it was the guilt of his past actions, the stress of the group's survival, or a combination of the two, but Rick Grimes had been lost somewhere along the road, and you wanted to find him.

Your gaze drifted down to your lap, where the remnants of a half-eaten dinner lay. You weren't sure what Carol had made tonight, but it was good. She was always an amazing cook.

Carol.

She was the only person who knew how you felt about Rick. It had been hard not to talk about it. You two were close, and it wasn't like you were a master at keeping secrets. Carol was, though. She had a talent for reading people and knew right away when you had developed a crush. She always teased you about it.

You were glad she didn't tell anyone, and you were glad to have her as a friend.

With the fire beginning to die down, and the food finished, the others began drifting back to their respective tents. First Michonne, then Carl, Daryl, Carol, and Tyreese. Sasha lingered for a bit, and eventually, Abraham and Rosita. Eugene and Tara had been gone all day scavenging for supplies, and Glenn and Maggie had disappeared into the woods an hour before. They had just recently returned, hand-in-hand, and were giggling and whispering as they headed for their tent.

As for you? Well, you were just waiting. Waiting and watching Rick. You didn't know why, exactly. Maybe you were hoping he would suddenly break out of this new, serious-all-the-time character he'd been portraying. Or maybe you were trying to figure out how to talk to him, how to tell him how you felt.

That thought sent your heart racing again. You took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before letting it out slowly.

You couldn't help but feel like the entire world had been waiting for something to change. Waiting for a spark. And when you looked at Rick, you knew. You just knew.

There was something about him. Something special. Something you couldn't explain, but it drew you to him like a moth to a flame. He was the spark you had been waiting for, and the feeling was so strong you could hardly contain yourself.

Rick turned, and you met his eyes. They were a clear blue, a striking contrast to the dark hair that framed his face. His beard was starting to get long, and the curls atop his head were a bit wilder than usual.

Your eyes met his. The smile he gave you was weak, forced. You were tempted to stand up and give him a hug, just to make him feel better. But you didn't.

After a few moments of awkward silence, he stood up, adjusting Judith in his arms as he did so. She stirred, her eyelids fluttering a few times before falling shut once more.

"G'night."

"Night."

And then, he was gone.

You watched as the tent flap closed behind him. He had disappeared so quickly that you barely even had time to register what had happened. You felt like a part of you had just left with him. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. You had been sitting there, watching him, for a long time, and the sudden silence was deafening.

As you headed for your tent, the last of the campers called out to you.

"Night!"

You stopped in your tracks, turning towards the voice. Carl was smiling, waving at you. You raised a hand in response, flashing a brief smile before turning away.

"Night."

You were asleep almost instantly. The day's events had left you exhausted, and it didn't take long for sleep to overtake you. It overtook you to the point that you had slept in until after everyone else had gotten up.

Morning came and you exited the tent, squinting as the sunlight hit your face. The sun was high in the sky, and the others had begun the morning without you. You didn't mind; it wasn't the first time this had happened, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

As you made your way to the main area, you were greeted by several friendly faces.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Glenn teased. "We were starting to wonder if you were ever gonna get up."

You flashed a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I was just exhausted."

You scanned the area for a few minutes, noting that a couple of people were missing. Rick, for example, was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Glenn, where's Rick?"

Glenn glanced around the campsite. He scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "Not sure, actually. I haven't seen him this morning. Not since breakfast."

That was strange.

"I'm gonna go look for him," you said,

As you left, Glenn gave you the thumbs up in encouragement before his eyes flashed back to Maggie and Tara. Most likely retelling the events of the previous day.

You soon wandered through the trees, searching for any sign of Rick – or anyone for that matter. Both Daryl and Carol were also missing, but you weren’t concerned about those two. It was more concerning for those who stumbled upon them. Now Rick, on the other hand, he was different.

As of right now he wasn’t the man to mess with. Seeing how he handled those at Terminus, and hearing what had happened the night before from Michonne… you weren’t concerned about the possibility of him getting attacked or injured. Your concern fell towards his mentality.

He was “technically” the leader that everyone had listened and looked up to. Abraham made arguments, mostly of the importance of taking Eugene to DC, but Rick was the one who had the final say. That kind of power and responsibility to lead an entire group to their survival has heavy effects. And now, after so much loss and failure, it finally took its toll.

The sun shined brightly through the trees as you walked, and the air was warm. It was the kind of day you would have spent reading on your back porch, or maybe going for a hike. Before the world ended, anyway.

As you started walking, you couldn't help but notice the quiet. There was no sign of life anywhere. No birds, no insects, no Walkers. It was almost like the entire world had disappeared, leaving you all alone.

The forest became more thick and dense the further you walked into it, with the trees growing more close together. The sun still shined through the branches, but it was still early, and the shadows were deep.

You started your trail back towards the temporary camp when you noticed a noise coming from behind you. You spun around, heart pounding. It sounded like footsteps.

"Rick?"

There was no answer. Just the sound of the wind whistling through the trees.

"Rick?" You tried again.

Nothing.

The silence was unnerving. The sound of footsteps had stopped, and there was still no sign of life anywhere.

Then, suddenly, you heard a branch snap and everything that was peaceful turned into a war zone. You spun around fast with fists clenched. You didn’t even process what it was before you struck it in the face.

Your face fell once you opened your eyes to peek at the danger.

Ah, shit.

Rick straightened out, his hand running over his nose where you had accidentally struck. He seemed a little dazed, but otherwise was fine.

"Oh, god, I am so sorry," you said, wincing. "I didn't know it was you. I thought you were a… I don’t— oh, geez.”

Rick blinked a few times, regaining his composure. His hand fell from his nose, and he gave you a slight smile. Fake, again, but this time you didn’t blame him.

“What are you doin’ out here?” Rick’s voice was low, and he sounded tired. He didn’t look directly at you, instead choosing to gaze past you at the forest behind. It was almost as if he didn’t care to hear your answer.

And it was clear he wasn’t bothered by the fact that you had just punched him in the face.

You found yourself sighing at his words. It was a difficult question. One that had multiple answers.

What were you doing out here?

What was he doing out here?

Why were either of you out here instead of being with the group or resting up after the chaos of yesterday?

The questions buzzed in your head, but the answer was clear.

You were out here because of Rick. You were out here to find him. To talk to him.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The two of you stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity, and the awkwardness was palpable.

"You should be with the others.”

The words hung heavy in the air. They were simple enough, but the weight behind them was crushing.

"You should be with them, too," you countered.

Rick's gaze shifted to you, and you met his eyes.

The sun's rays broke through the treetops, illuminating his face. He looked tired. So tired. Rick had always had dark circles under his eyes, but the ones you were seeing now were new. They were a deeper shade than you'd ever seen, and they seemed to have grown bigger.

He was worn down, exhausted, and there was a hollowness to his stare. A dullness that had replaced the fire. And yet, despite all of that, there was still a warmth there. A sense of caring, of love, that was still present.

It was that warmth that gave you the courage to continue.

"I'm worried about you," you blurted.

His expression shifted slightly, his brows furrowing.

"You're worrying about me?"

You nodded, your eyes still fixed on his.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

He shook his head.

"You don't need to worry about me."

"Yes, I do. Because I care about you."

Rick stared at you for a moment. He seemed stunned, and the look on his face made your heart ache.

He let out a small sigh.

"You don't have to," he said, his voice quiet. "I'll be fine."

"You don't have to be the hero all the time, you know," you said. "You can let the rest of us help carry the load."

His eyes searched yours.

"You can't save everyone," you continued. "Sometimes you just have to accept that there are some things that are out of your control."

Rick became silent. You could see the pain and conflict swirling in his eyes. He wanted to accept your words, but the guilt was still eating away at him.

He closed his eyes, and the tension in his body seemed to ease a bit.

"I'm just… tired," he said. "I'm tired of seeing people die. Of losing people."

You placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I know," you said. "I'm tired, too."

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 9 months

Text

Words: 3,834 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Warnings: language, blood and gore, some sexuality, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is part of a series! Find all the parts on the Master List!

Previous Chapter here

Summary: Y/N and Daryl soak in their newfound closeness before heading out for a quick chore and some time together.

Your name: submit What is this?

It was one of the gentlest wakings you could remember—being pulled slowly from sleep by the soft shuffling of one of the dogs on the rug after a deep night of sleep that was free from new nightmares or bad memories. And then you became aware of his warmth and weight beside you. Even through your closed eyelids Daryl was steady and strong. You opened them to find his blue eyes already fixed on your face and then he smiled, almost a little abashedly as if you’d caught him at something he shouldn’t be doing, and your lips curved into a smile that mirrored his.

You drew in a deep, sustaining breath and shifted among the mess of sheets. There was a space between you and Daryl, but only a small one.

“You couldn’t sleep in?” you asked him gently. You could tell by the filtered light that it was much later than either of you usually rose.

“Nah, I coulda gone back to sleep,” he said. His voice was extra gravelly. “But once I woke up, I just—didn’t wanna close my eyes again,” he said. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile. “I ain’t been awake long though. Actually managed a pretty good night’a sleep for once.”

“Good. That’s good.” You paused and bit your bottom lip subconsciously. “Wonder why that is,” you said warmly.

Daryl let out an amused exhale. “No idea,” he drawled.

You smiled softly and sighed and then couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you. The cabin always grew cold overnight without anyone tending the fires.

Daryl immediately looked concerned. “Ya cold?”

“A little,” you admitted. “Just because the fire went out while we slept.”

He started to shift in the blankets.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, leaning up on an elbow.

“Yer cold. ‘M gonna get the fires goin’ again, warm this place up.”

“Don’t.”

Daryl gave you a questioning look, one hand still on the quilt, ready to throw it off and slip out of bed.

“Just—come warm me up instead?” you said softly. “Please?”

His eyebrow quirked up at that. “What’d ya have in mind exactly?” he asked.

“Whatever you think is best,” you said with a small laugh.

He studied your face for a long moment and then moved in toward you. He reached for you, a little hesitantly at first, but more needily when you shifted closer to him, moving into his arms. He tucked you up against him and you nestled into the crook of his neck and sighed contentedly. Your fingers fanned out against his bare chest. “This is perfect,” you breathed. “Thank you.”

He chuckled and you heard it reverberating deeply in his chest. “Warmer?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Happy to help. ’M practically a furnace. Definitely more of an advantage here than when I was growin’ up in Georgia,” he drawled.

“Mmm. I bet,” you hummed. Your fingertip traced the edge of one of the scars on his chest and you leaned in and kissed it. Daryl’s hand smoothed down your arm and onto your waist, following the crest of your hip and then landing on your leg. His fingers grazed over the scarred landscape of your upper leg and at first you flinched away, but his touch was so gentle and steady that you let go of your gripping anxiety and settled in again. You flushed with heat when his hand drifted away and departed to your thigh. His fingertips dimpled into the softness there and then he drew your leg toward his body until it was draped over his. Electric tingles seemed to erupt all over your skin. Your teeth nestled into the pillow of your bottom lip. You nuzzled in against his neck and kissed it gently.

Daryl responded by gently squeezing your thigh.

You kissed his neck again, this time lingering with your lips against his skin.

Goosebumps erupted on Daryl’s skin and he let out a sigh that had a raspy edge to it. You smiled and pulled slightly back so you could look into his face. You hand landed lightly on his chest. The look he gave you was needy.

“What do you say to me letting the dogs out and feeding them, brushing our teeth, and meeting back in here for a hot shower?” you asked him.

Daryl’s eyes flickered over your face. “I say I must be fuckin’ dreamin’.”

You gently trapped a strand of his hair between your fingers and followed its gentle wave down to the end. “You’re not. I’m at least 95% sure.”

“I’ll get the fires goin’ again too while ya let the dogs out. But dun take too long.”

“I won’t.”

Though you both were a little loathe to separate, you untangled yourselves and Daryl threw the covers back and pulled on his discarded pants. He grabbed his shirt off the floor getting ready to pull it on.

“Can I borrow that?” you asked, still shrouded in the sheets.

“This?” he asked, gesturing with his button up. “Ya wanna borrow it?”

“Yeah. Just for five minutes,” you said.

He tossed it to you and watched you pull it on and button it up. It swallowed you up and hung on your smaller frame. You slipped out of bed, your hands tucked in the sleeves. Daryl looked you up and down.

“What do you think?” you asked, laughing at his expression.

“If ya promise to wear it jus’ like that all the time, ya can keep it,” he drawled. He gulped, suddenly nervous again as he wondered at how goddamn beautiful you were, even with sleep messed hair and hidden in his clothes. How the hell had Brian’s dying wish led to here?

You moved past him to greet the dogs, but your fingertips brushed over his bare skin and he shivered from the electric chill they elicited. “Meet you right back here in five minutes?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, nudging his nose up at you in that characteristic Daryl-way.

Dogs pottied and fed, coffee brewing in the kitchen, teeth brushed, you headed back into your bedroom to find Daryl sitting on the side of the bed, petting Strider. A fire was crackling happily in the hearth again. Your heart lifted at the sight of him.

He looked up at the soft padding of your feet and again drank in the sight of you in just his shirt. His chest seemed to burst with heat. You smiled at him. That damn smile, just for him. It didn’t seem to make any fucking sense, but there it was.

“Still up for that shower?” you asked, feeling suddenly a little more shy. You fiddled with your hands hidden in the long sleeves of his shirt.

He nodded. “Yeah. If you are.”

You nodded back. “Yeah. I am.”

Maybe he could sense your sudden vulnerability, or maybe he was just being him but he got up and crossed the space to you and pulled you in against him gently, one hand on your hip and one moving to clasp your face. His eyes flickered between yours. “Ya wanna know ‘bout the first time I thought ya were beautiful?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “It was when I woke up on that mat of skins all covered over in blankets in front of the fire, nothin’ on but my damn boxers. And I looked up, and there ya were, just sittin’ on the couch eatin’ a bowl of somethin’, starin’ at me. Sure, I was disoriented and confused as hell, but I just stared at ya and thought ‘Who the hell is this goddamn beautiful woman and why the fuck is she lookin’ at me?’ And then it just never seemed to make any sense… Still don’t really,” he said, ducking his head. “And then I got to know ya and ya got more beautiful every fuckin’ day. And before I knew it, I was in too deep to get out. It was like plungin’ into that frozen lake.”

“You’re one to talk… What kind of person crosses damn near the entire country in a fucking apocalypse to find the sister of a—of a dead man? Just because he asked? And the more I get to know you, the more I realize that’s just who you are. You’ll do anything for the people you care about. It’s a miracle you made it here in one piece and even more of a miracle that we somehow stumbled on each other.”

“I dun exactly believe in God or fate, but tha’s as good’a argument as I’ve ever heard,” Daryl drawled.

“Exactly.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead softly. “C’mon. I need that hot shower. ‘M cold. Somebody stole my damn shirt.”

You grinned up at him and a laugh bubbled out of you. The next moment you laced your fingers with his and tugged him toward the bathroom.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You and Daryl couldn’t stop smiling at each other. You were still drying off after a rather steamy shower… Daryl felt as though he could still hear the noises of pleasure he’d been able to pull from you ringing in his ears. Flashes of the water cascading over your collarbone or running along the angle of your shoulder blade as he pressed you against the wall burst in his mind’s eye and—

“Daryl?”

He suddenly realized you were talking to him. “Hmm?”

You laughed and smiled at him, a flush in the apples of your cheeks. “I was asking what you wanted to do today?”

“S—sorry. Uhh… I dunno.” More of what you’d just done would be nice. His cheeks flushed.

You were still smiling at him. “It’s okay. I had an idea,” you said.

“What’s that?”

“Have you ever seen elk up close?” you asked.

“Nah. Not really. I saw some from far out when I was travelin’ here, but that’s it,” he drawled. “Why?”

“I know where the herds hang out in the winter. They’re pretty amazing to see up close. I thought we could go. It’s not too far.”

Daryl gave you a fond look and your heart fluttered. “That sounds—sounds real good. There’s one other thing though…”

“Hmm?”

He nervously rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, we should prob’ly check those walker traps we put up the other day.” His stomach dropped at the thought of it. He hadn’t told you that the snares had been triggered the day before and he still needed to dispose of those corpses. The thought of it brought forward more serious conversations that he was dreading trying to broach; the valley flooded with walkers, the fast runners, him having to leave to get back to everyone in the east and the thought of what if you wouldn’t come with… especially now that he’d realized how head over heels he was for you.

You finished pulling your socks on and looked up at him. “You think there will be anything in them?” Daryl thought he heard a slight edge of apprehension in your tone.

“Mmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, and then he nodded. “I dunno...” Better tell you now than dragging it on any longer. “But there were some in the snares yesterday.”

Your face dropped. “Oh. Really?”

He nodded, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip. “Yeah. I didn’t wanna ruin the evenin’ again yesterday after the storm and everythin’. ‘M sorry I didn’t tell ya right away.”

Your brow furrowed deeply. “How many were—” You broke off and Daryl could almost see how your mind was whirling. “How many?” Your eyes were a little wide as you looked up at him.

Daryl wished he could tell you otherwise, but he couldn’t. “Three in the snares but I saw more tracks while I was out there. Course they coulda been made by the same ones. I dunno…”

You seemed frozen for a long moment, staring off vaguely at the space ahead of you. At length, you shook your head. “I don’t understand how they’re getting this far up. They shouldn’t be getting this far up the mountain…” You said it more to yourself than to him.

Daryl gulped. “I know.”

You sighed heavily and nervously bit the inside of your cheek. “Alright. Well… we better check those then,” you said, climbing to your feet.

“Ya comin’ with?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I want to see what’s out there. Then after, if we feel up to it, I can show you the elk.” You managed to give him a tight smile, but both of you could sense that the bubble of bliss you’d been cloaked in since the previous night had burst. With the thought of the infected weighing heavily on your minds, being tangled in the sheets together and colliding under the steamy shower spray suddenly felt like a lifetime ago.

In a few minutes, you and Daryl were geared up and bundled for the cold. The dogs burst through the cabin door into the snow and bounded happily among the drifts. You slung your recurve bow up on your shoulder and stowed your knife on your hip. “Ready?” you asked.

Daryl was armed and waiting. “Yeah. Followin’ you,” he said. You both stepped out into the deep snow.

It was still quite cold, but less bitter than had been left in the wake of the storm the day before. The dogs seemed to be soaking up the sunshine as they tunneled their noses under the snow and then stopped to sniff the air. You found yourself slightly on edge and watching their body language and behavior closely. Those fucking runners were on your mind. Your eyes scanned the snow and more than once you thought you heard a stick snap in the woods and froze to listen. Having Daryl beside you helped immensely, but you still were hypervigilant.

Eventually you rounded a little knoll and slowed your pace. The snares were just up ahead. Before you even reached them you stopped cold. There was a bright red spot in the snow.

Daryl swung his crossbow down off his shoulder and stepped around you. “What is it?” He stopped and knelt down to look at the blood droplet. He glanced up at you with a furrowed brow.

“That’s really fresh,” you said. You nocked an arrow on your bow and glanced at the dogs. They stood nearby, rigid and listening, noses sniffing incessantly up in the air. Strider let out a low growl.

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed softly, standing and scanning the surroundings. “C’mon. These tracks lead off toward the snares anyway.”

You followed behind him now. He took the lead instinctively, protectively, and you relinquished it to him without argument. As you got closer to the snares, you both began to hear faint growling sounds and Strider barked and charged ahead, his hackles raised. Bear took off after him.

As you plunged after them into the trees, you came upon three walkers hoisted by their legs in the snares. The corpses Daryl had left behind the day before were still piled but had obviously been gnawed on only to prove too frozen.

“Shit,” you murmured, lowering your bow. You paced forward past Daryl and stopped almost directly underneath them. You stared up at them, your expression dark. “Strider. Bear. Heel.”

The dogs stopped their circling beneath the infected and came to your sides. You watched the walkers swaying like some kind of perverse piñatas.

“Here,” Daryl said gently. “Just step back a little. I’ll get ‘em.” He touched you lightly on the sleeve.

“It’s okay. I’ve got it,” you murmured. You seemed to come out of your trance and you raised you bow again, drawing it back and letting an arrow fly squarely into the forehead of the closest walker reaching for you where it dangled. It stilled and a thick trickle of blood oozed down and dripped into the snow. You walked forward and retrieved your arrow before repeating the process with the remaining caught infected. The final one, however, was clearly not of the typical sluggish variety. It moved violently in the snare, its arms flailing with alarming speed as it growled and yelled and attempted to reach you. You felt nauseous as you nocked your arrow one final time and it was more difficult to aim with the runner’s frantic movements spinning and swinging it on the end of the rope. But when you let your arrow go, it landed with deadly accuracy. The silence that fell seemed deafening and neither you, nor Daryl, or even the dogs moved for a long moment. The bodies continued to sway in front of you slightly.

Finally, Daryl glanced back over at you, trying to read your face. It was marked with deep disconcertion. “Ya okay?” he asked.

You pulled in a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh and shook your head. “Not really.” You finally looked over at him and your eyes seem large and worried, as if the rest of you was shrinking away in front of him. “Another one of those—those runner things,” you said. “Fuck.” You ducked your head and ran a hand over your face. Bear sat down beside you and whined, clearly sensing your mood. You reached over absently and sunk your fingertips into his thick fur.

Daryl went to each snare and lowered the bodies, pulling them to the pile of the infected from the day before. While he reset the snares, you unpacked a load dry wood from your pack and tossed it on, adding green pine boughs to the pile too. Daryl poured on the mix of oil and gas he’d brought from the shop and threw a lit match on.

The two of you stood side by side and watched it burn for a long time without speaking. The snow around it hissed and sizzled. The wood popped. The forest around you was silent. Finally, you shifted beside him.

“We’re probably gonna have to come back with more wood and stuff tomorrow. Finish mopping up this mess.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.” His fingers moved anxiously over his crossbow, fiddling with this and that. “Ya wanna just go home?” he asked, hazarding a glance at your expression again.

You paused thoughtfully for a moment and then tried to rally yourself. “No. I’m not gonna let a few of these undead fucks ruin our whole day.” You straightened up and met his eyes.

He gave you a half-smile. “Well, tha’s good. ‘Cause somebody promised me an elk today.”

“Are you still up for it?” you asked, for the first time realizing how truly worried he had looked only moments ago.

“Hell yeah,” he drawled. He shouldered his bow again. “Lead the way.”

You whistled to the dogs and left the snares behind. It took you a little time to find the path you wanted to take in the deep snow, but once you found the stone marker you’d placed yourself years ago, the walk was easier. Deep game trails were already cut through the drifts by deer and other wildlife and you were able to pass easily over the compacted snow. The walk was scenic and Daryl found himself stopping every so often to admire some glen that seemed iced in fairytale white or to peer up at a jagged rock outcropping that towered overhead. You always noticed when he’d slowed or stopped and you would pace back to stand beside him and appreciate the scene too. And then he often found himself gazing at you instead.

“Come on, quit that,” you laughed once, having caught him looking at you instead of at the partially frozen little creek you’d both stopped beside.

The corners of his eyes crinkled a little in the ghost of a smile. “Why?”

“Because it’s making me blush,” you retorted. There was definitely heat blooming in your face.

He shrugged. “I can’t tell. Yer cheeks are already pink from the cold.”

You’d linked your arm with his and leaned your head against his shoulder then. The gentle babbling of the creek was a perfect soundtrack and lifted both of your spirits after the grim discovery earlier. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

Daryl let you slip apart from him and followed behind you again. You led him down a little dip into a coulee which widened into an open area rimmed with trees. You slowed and began to move quietly, digging into the side pocket of your pack for your binoculars. You scanned the snow and soon began to see elk prints. You pointed them out to Daryl. “The herd likes to hang out around here in the winter. It’s protected from the wind and has plenty of browse.”

Daryl examined the hoof print, awed by the size of it. “When do ya think these are from? Last night?”

“Mmm,” you nodded, looping the strap of your binoculars around your neck. “Looks like. Come on.” You made the dogs walk beside you again and began to weave through the trees to a spot you usually were able to conceal yourself in and have some good views of the elk herd lounging.

But Daryl nearly ran into you when you stopped dead in front of him.

“Y/N?” He could feel how your body tensed. “S’goin’ on?”

He watched as you raised the binoculars to your eyes and peered through them. Your voice was airy and disconnected when you tried to speak. “There’s a—I think there’s an elk kill ahead but it’s—it doesn’t—”

Daryl’s heart started to pound. “Doesn’t what?”

“It doesn’t look right,” you said. “Something—something’s wrong.”

“What d’ya mean?” Daryl squinted ahead through the trees. Adrenaline was coursing through his bloodstream. His hearing seemed to sharpen.

“I can’t—I need to get closer,” you said, lowering the binoculars again. Your face was ashen.

“Hold up. Ya sure tha’s a good idea?”

The deep caverns of worry lines were back in your forehead again. “We need to go look at this. Trust me.”

Daryl hesitated, but finally nodded. The hair on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end as the two of you stepped forward. A raven took out from the top of a tall pine and its throaty croak echoed around you. More birds rose ahead and joined in the rasping calls. He had the overwhelming sense that things were about to irrevocably change for the worse.

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