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collecting-stories · 2 years

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Savannah Mae - c. 28 - Daryl Dixon

Summary: Savannah's birth and the weeks after.

A/N: If you read the original than you know this is already worlds different so...sorry if you preferred that one. There'll still be some 'finding out' on Savannah's part later on. Also...I had posted this before but took it down to make it better and genuinely think I made it worse.

Georgia Series | The Walking Dead Masterlist

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Patricia tacked the photo up above the coffeemaker for anyone and everyone to see. The sweetest looking baby, cheeks pudgy and eyes squinting with a little green bow in what little hair she had, swaddled in a floral blanket. Savannah, the sharpie on the back of the photo said, with the date of her birth underneath. You’d sent it to her in a letter followed by a phone call to see if there was anything (anything at all) that you needed. There wasn’t, you promised, along with promising to be home as soon as you were able to.

Dale came by as soon as Otis called, inspecting the photo and telling them to pass on some love (and a check) to you. Maggie didn’t wait for a photo, driving up on the weekend with Glenn and Beth to meet her goddaughter. She called her dad on the phone so he could pray over the baby, all eight pounds and three ounces of her. There were calls of congratulations and Otis had made the hike up to your dad’s house on Patricia’s orders with pre-prepared meals and gifts he’d collected, even a message left on the answering machine from your mom asking about seeing her granddaughter if you had the time. Everything was working to make you miss Kings County more than you thought you would.

When your dad had driven the two of you home and you’d settled Savannah in for that first night at the house you couldn’t shake the aching feeling in your chest, like something was missing. You knew it wasn’t just Daryl and you said as much to Maggie when she showed up to meet the little girl.

“Feels like there should be a house full of people crowding in to see her and give me all the parenting advice I don’t need and asking why she hasn’t already been christened even though she’s only been alive for a week.” You had admitted while you were sitting at the kitchen table feeding her and letting Maggie make you tea. The scene felt overwhelmingly adult though you were feeling more and more like a kid these days. Everything seemed too complicated and too big to be yours. A baby, a husband (in prison, no less), college, a part time job...you wanted to be able to just drop something, as if that was a possibility. Like elementary school when you couldn’t do soccer and baseball at the same time so you stopped playing baseball. But all these things were yours and you couldn’t leave any of them behind.

When you’d first started actually dating Daryl it felt like you were hanging on to small town Georgia life because you didn’t want to let him go but being closer to Atlanta only made you miss home. You wanted to be near Maggie and Patty and you wanted to go to the same old church and work in the same old diner and do all the things you always did. This, the being away, made you feel like you were stuck out at sea when everyone else was safely on the boat.

“You’ll be down before you know it,” Maggie had said, as if she could already see your future all laid out in front of her. It was the same thing she always said when you mentioned even the slightest feelings of homesickness to her. Maggie’d had her whole life planned out since the day you met her. She was going to get married (that part had been fuzzy but it was clearer now that Glenn was in the picture) and she was gonna have kids and she was gonna take over the farm from her daddy when he got too old to run things.

“Four years is a long time...” you felt like everything lately was going double the speed but too slow at the same time. Four years sounded like a decade but nine months had gone by in the blink of an eye. “Besides, Daryl’s got ten max.”

“You can’t just think of it as sitting up here waiting for him, you gotta live your life.”

Easier said than done, you wanted to say. “I know, I know. It’s not like I’m just cooped up watching the calendar or something. I just mean, even if I do go back to Kings County...Daryl’s not gonna be there. I just, I don’t know. Nobody’s talking about me here, ya know? I don’t have to listen to gossips whispering behind my back while I serve them breakfast. And that’s kinda nice but...there aren’t any familiar faces either and I just keep thinking to myself, how much I miss him.”

Maggie smiled, “Oh, they’re doing that whether your home or not. Patricia’s already got Savannah’s picture all up on display. People can’t come through the door without her or Otis telling ‘em all about it.”

“Oh I’m sure,” you had talked to Patricia almost every day since you’d left, hearing stories about Kings County and telling her every detail of Savannah’s few weeks on earth. You wanted to tell Maggie that it really wasn’t much of a decision for you, this place was your dad’s home but it didn’t feel like yours. “I just wish I could speed up the time a little bit. Make everything happen faster than it’s happening right now.”

You missed Kings County most of all on the day Savannah was born. It was a good few hours' drive up to your dad’s apartment and Michonne had been planning all month to take some days off so she could be around when the due date approached but timing was never your strong suit so it was no surprise the baby came early. Two whole weeks and Michonne was on shift, leaving your dad (nerves already shot from years of living with your mom) to be there with you at the birthing center.

“I read this, this...article. I read this article that said skin to skin contact is the best way for, uh, for babies to form, like, bonds. Do you, do you think that’s true? That if a baby doesn’t have the, uh...the skin to skin...do you think they won’t bond? Like, later?” You asked, twisted in the bed so you could watch the nurse hanging fluids beside your bed. Your hands kept seizing up as you held the railing, fingers contracting and releasing in an effort to rid yourself of the feeling of needles under your skin. You knew the anxiety attack was there even before you really felt it, the air in the hospital room heavy and humid no matter how cool the AC was trying to make it. You felt like you were going to vomit and you wondered how you’d managed to hold it together for the last eight months because even your lowest points felt like highs right then at the birthing center.

“Honey,” your father’s tone was soft and knowing, he’d heard every irrational thought that crossed your mind and more than once had driven you down to the jail to see Daryl, though trips got more and more infrequent the closer you got to term. “It’s okay,” he was attempting to be reassuring, you knew that, but you could only hear someone tell you that things would be okay so many times before you wanted to scream.

“No,” you snapped, waving him off with an arm that felt like lead, “no! I read about it.”

“It helps,” the nurse replied, whether she knew exactly what she was saying or not, you were just happy that someone had the decency to be honest with you. “But it’s not the only thing that forms a bond.”

“Ya see honey, nothing to worry about.”

It was a nice sentiment in the moment and you knew it was supposed to calm your nerves but it did little to help in actuality. You felt more and more like your entire life was imploding and you were trying to focus on the present, what was happening right now (the epidural having reduced the intensity of the pain you had been in when you first arrived), but thinking about the baby made you think about Daryl and thinking about Daryl...

“I should’ve kept going to see him,” you said, watching the nurse as she walked out of the room. “I told him I couldn’t-”

“It was putting too much stress on you and the baby. Your doctor even said so.” Your dad pointed out. The excuse was a nice one, the same one you used on Daryl, but it was more than stress that had kept you away the last four months. “Besides, Daryl told you not to be coming down all the time.”

“I know,” you felt yourself starting to tear up, eyes blurring as you pressed the side of your face into your pillow and looked out the window, “I know what my doctor said but it was just bullshit, I mean, I was just angry...that’s it. I was angry and I was being a brat and I didn’t want him to get to have any of the moments I was getting. Like...if he was gonna be in there then why should he get to feel when the baby kicks or see the sonongram or any of that but it was just shit. It doesn’t matter...I was just angry and it was for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing baby,” your dad stressed, “you’re allowed to be angry at someone, even if you love them. Especially if you love them. You don’t have to let someone put you through shit just cause they’re being stupid. You’re allowed to be mad and you did this alone and you’re allowed to decide how that happens.”

You glanced back at him, “what if he doesn’t wanna see her? If he’s angry right back and doesn’t want anything to do with us?”

“Doesn’t sound like him at all.”

It took 36 hours and coming close to breaking your father’s hand, but Savannah Mae Dixon was born right around dinner time the day after you came to the hospital. She was seven pounds and ten ounces and she already had a full head of hair. Michonne had gotten there in time to be in the delivery room too and she stood on the other side of your bed, brushing your hair away from your forehead and telling you what a great job you were doing.

When it was finally just the four of you, back in your hospital room while you fought off falling back to sleep as you held Savannah in your arms, it felt like you could finally relax.

“I still remember when you were born,” your dad started to say, reaching over cautiously to brush a few strands of hair over on Savannah’s head. “well...your mom had me out in the waiting room the whole time, with her dad sitting there next to me staring me down. But otherwise, I remember.”

“I told Daryl this was too hard but...I really wish he was here right now.” You admitted.

“He wishes he was here too, I’m sure of it.” He replied.

“Yeah well, he would be-”

“Honey,” your dad cut you off before you could finish your sentence. “You can’t change what happened and you can’t dwell on it either. Trust me, there are a million things I wish I coulda done differently, that I’m sure you wish I had done differently, but we can’t go back. Just have to make the most of what we have right now.”

You sighed, focusing your attention back on the baby in your arms. You knew that your dad was right but you didn’t really want anyone else’s opinion or attempts at rationalizing. All you wanted to do was lay there and pity yourself. And you couldn’t help thinking about Daryl being with you, he would’ve stayed the whole time, not stepped outside like you’d heard Rick did. Things you thought would bother him never did. He would’ve tried not to smile, maybe he would’ve even pretended not to cry. He’d try to play it cool but he’d be the first to hold the baby.

“If your daddy was here he’d be so excited to meet you,” you whispered, cradling her closer to you as the nurse returned to the room, “you got his pretty blue eyes, so I’m hoping you keep ‘em.”

Patricia wasn’t the only person who could stake a claim in pictures of Savannah. Hershel had hung one on the bulletin board in the vestibule (encouraging the congregation to pray for the baby and you), Dale had photocopied Patricia’s and hung it in the auto body shop (right beside Axel’s calendar of Sport’s Illustrated models), and then there was one hanging on the concrete, whitewashed wall of Daryl’s cell. It was a llitte too big to fit in a wallet and had bent at the edges during transit. He taped it right beside his pillow so he could see it at night when he couldn’t sleep.

Michonne had been the one to send it to him, along with a quick note telling him that Rick was swamped with work and Carl and things were always looking grim with Lori and that was why he hadn’t managed a trip out to see his best friend. What she didn’t say was that Rick wasn’t coming but Daryl already knew that, he would have been more shocked if she told him the deputy sheriff was planning a trip. He played along though, biting his tongue whenever Michonne tried to make things seem better than they were. The picture was just another reminder that Daryl had screwed up.

“Look at her, she’s adorable!” Paul had been the first to congratulate him (the only, really), peering at the photo from the desk in the corner of the cell as Daryl taped it up. “Aaron and I talked about adopting someday. I don’t know if I can anymore...actually.”

Daryl, like most times, remained silent.

Paul, like most times, kept on talking, “How’s mom feeling? Any postpartum issues?”

“Haven’t heard,” Daryl shrugged, “she ain’t been coming ‘round.”

Paul’s expression changed to one of mild embarrassment, of course he knew that you hadn’t been to see Daryl in close to five months but he’d been a little hopeful, especially when the letter was opened, that you’d let go a little of the frustation that had turned to bitterness. “Sorry,” he apologised, solely for mentioning any of it in the first place, “just saw the picture and figured-”

“Friend a mine sent it.” Daryl replied, cutting him off.

The last time you’d been to the prison you were just around five months pregnant, still sick most of the time and trying to take night courses at the community college near your dad. Whatever the honeymoon stage of being together that you and Daryl might’ve been in before had weened. You looked less like you wanted to be there and more like you wanted to run back out the door and he couldn’t honestly blame you for it.

He’d been waiting for this day for a while. Counting down all the good moments until the bad one came.

“I don’t think I can come up anymore,” you picked at the hem of the maternity dress as you sat at the table across from him. You felt like throwing up, anxiety blubbing in your stomach. You’d rehearsed this speech a million and one times before you finally made the trek out to see Daryl. “It’s just a lot of stress on the baby, you know?”

“I get it,” Daryl nodded, hair falling in his eyes when he bowed his head. You weren’t meeting his eyes and you hadn’t since you sat down. Hands still in your lap and body tense as you tried to stumble through some kind of explanation.

“It’s just...it’s been hard. And it doesn’t feel like it’s gonna get any better, ‘specially not once the baby’s actually here.” You said, “I can’t be taking a baby to a jail every week Daryl. I got enough on my plate as it is.”

“I get it.”

“It’s not that I don’t wanna see you...I do. But-”

“I get it.”

You huffed, leaning a little closer and finally looking at him. “Is that all you can say?” You snapped, “just ‘I get it’?”

“What’d ya want me ta say?” Daryl asked, “been saying since the beginning that ya’d get sick a me-”

“I’m not sick of you Daryl...god. I’m just...I’m trying to raise a baby. Our baby. That you’re supposed to be helping me with. And instead, you’re here and excuse me if I don’t feel like packing up a fucking car every week to haul a baby here because you were too boneheaded to do what you shoulda done.” You said, voice dropping to a whisper so no one around heard you.

“It ain’t that simple.”

You shrugged, “you know I love you Daryl...I just, I just need some time to-”

“I get it.” He cut you off again, crossing his arms on the tabletop and looking toward the clock. There was hardly time left for the visit but the last few minutes felt like decades, silence stretching between the two of you as you waited. Daryl said nothing else and when it was time to go he stood and left before you even got up.

He regretted the conversation but then, Daryl regretted a good deal of his life. He wasn’t sure if he was just trying to self sabotage or not but the moment you’d told him you didn’t think you could keep showing up he was shutting down. He could feel the end, because he could always feel the end, hovering right there behind him and threatening anything good that he ever had the opportunity to have.

When he zoned back into the conversation Paul was still having, even though it was onesided at this point, he realized the guard was outside there cell door. Visitation, it was tuesday, and he was calling both their names. Daryl fully expected to see Michonne sitting at a table waiting for him with some new update that he didn’t want. She had been coming by for the last three weeks, since Savannah was born, to tell him how you were doing. As much as he wondered he wanted to tell her to stop coming. If you didn’t want him to know, if you didn’t want to see him, than there was no point in dragging him along, forcing him to hope that maybe things would change.

But it wasn’t Michonne and Paul tapped his arm excitedly before heading over to see Aaron. You were sitting there with a baby in your arms, looking a little unsure of yourself. When you saw him and smiled he was reminded of the way you’d looked the first time you met him, so eager but so nervous. He’d wanted to spend all day driving you around in his truck then and now he was already aching knowing that his time would be up soon.

“Didn’t think ya’d come by.” He said, sitting down at the table and fixing his eyes on his daughter.

“Michonne told me she gave you a picture, wanted you to see her in person.” You replied. You shifted so you could show her to him, her blue eyes staring into his.

Daryl reached across the table to touch her cheek and then her hand, tiny fingers clutching at one of his weakly. “She looks like ya. Thought it when I saw the picture, thinking it even more now.”

“My dad said she’s much quieter than I was...said I never stopped making noise. Sometimes I think she’s sleeping she’s so quiet and she’s just looking around. Quiet as a mouse.” You said, “I figure she gets that from you.”

“Ain’t surprised ya were mouthy as a baby...yer mouthy now.” He replied and snorted quietly when you kicked his foot under the table.

“I am not!” You huffed. You looked around to the guards standing at the edges of the room, “think they’ll let you hold her?”

Daryl seemed to tense at the suggestion.

“You don’t have to, if it makes you uncomfortable.” Even with all the months of knowing that you were going to have a daughter, you knew it wasn’t exactly something Daryl was completely ready for. You weren’t ready for it yourself.

“Ain’t that,” he assured you, “just don’t wanna drop ‘er or something...have ‘er cry second she sees me.”

“She’s not gonna cry Daryl, she’s your daughter.” You assured him, looking back over toward one of the guards. A nicer looking one that you hoped would feel bad for you. “It alright if he holds her?”

“That’s fine.”

“See, said it’s fine.” You stood up and came around the side of the table, shifting Savannah in your arms so that Daryl could take her from you, “support her head,” you instructed. You’d been saying it to everyone all the time. Half the time saying it to yourself in a whisper when no one was around, as if you might forget how to hold your daughter.

Daryl took Savannah from you, cradling her in his arms. The faintest of smiles crossed his face as she looked up at him and you felt like all the pent up emotion drained out of you. Like your shoulders relaxed and for the first time since your daughter was born you didn’t feel quite so alone. A somewhat ludicrous thought, considering Daryl’s current predicament and the wealth of people that had shown up to offer support (even Aaron had dropped by to hold Savannah and volunteer himself for chores) after the baby was born. But you didn’t really mind having the thought, giving into naviety for just a moment and enjoying the way it felt to watch Daryl hold Savannah.

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lazyneonrabbitt · 5 months

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Shared interests

Dad's best friend!Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader | SMUT 🔞 [Pt.2]

Your father shares information about his best friend to show support of your interests. Those interests take a different turn than he expected.

🐺 🐺 🐺

You and Daryl met via your father, Rick Grimes.

Him and Daryl had been best friends for so long they considered themselves brothers.

Although there was one major thing you had more in common with his best friend than with your father.

Monsters.

Werewolves to be exact.

Rick knew how crazy obsessed you were with those old day horror movies and their leading monsters so when he learned about Daryl’s more ..feral side he had asked if it was okay if you knew as well, to which he agreed.

When your dad told you his friend Daryl had something to show you you had zero clue of that it could be. All he cared for was hunting, leather jackets and motorcycles.

What you didn’t expect was to be met with a set of glowing blue eyes above exposed fangs and a clawed hand reaching out to hand you some books on lycantrophy.

Eyes wide you stared at the man on your couch and words seemed to fail you no matter how deep you dug through your mind. So you and your now soaked panties spun and ran up to your room.

“I think she meant to say thanks, Daryl.”

After that, whenever he visited you’d make sure to hang around and just talk to him. You wanted to learn everything about him and his species now that you knew they were real.

Daryl would sometimes bring you new books. The dust covers hiding the true, dirty covers of books on breeding, or biological books for ‘studying’ that did go in full depth when it came to anatomy.

Of course those books weren’t the only thing shared between the two of you. He could smell how turned on you got around him, that’s why you got the dirtier books in the first place.

When Rick got called about an emergency at work he rushed out, ordering you to take care of Daryl, who respectfully left after he had finished his drink. But not without sharing his phone number and later that evening his newly acquired snapchat. You shared a good amount of filthy thoughts over the app and his visits got more and more difficult for you both to sit through. You, thinking of wrapping your lips around his delicious looking cock as he howled out in pleasure while he came down your throat. But also him being able to sense your internal struggle and soaked panties. It was like you were silently begging him to bend you over the coffee table right then and there.

A couple months into your secret texting you had been reading one of the books Daryl had gifted you. The one on breeding, specifically. It went into great detail of certain mating rituals, what certain full moons did for reproduction on both male and female weres, but hidden further into the pages was this chapter on cross-breeding. The chapters included graphics of human females during the stages of pregnancies carrying either a single pup or multiples.

You had your reading nook prepared with a full phone battery, a small bottle of lube and the largest, knotted toy you kept hidden deep in your cabinets.

The whole book turned you on so much that even the informative graphics were enough to get you so slicked up you didn’t even need the lube as you slid the toy inside of you.

Grabbing your phone you opened snapchat and started a recording.

The book was the first thing in view, your fingers grazing over the image of a human female, her belly showed the internal view of her womb full of multiple pups, with next to it an outside look of her torso displaying a large round belly with multiple canine like teats. After letting the details show you swapped to your selfie cam, giving the camera a soft moan and bit your lip before moving the camera down to where you were pumping the thick, knotted toy in and out of your soaked pussy. You added a quick ‘wanna be like her..’ and sent it over to Daryl and laid your phone to the side, now giving all your attention to yourself and finishing what you started. As you worked yourself to release your phone dinged and a quick glance showed Daryl’s snapchat icon popping up. While one hand kept moving the toy, the other opened the snap and watched him jerk himself off with a clawed hand as bright blue eyes stared right at the camera. His shirt was pulled up between his bared fangs as he growled out loud and finished all over his hand and stomach. He came more than any guy in porn vids you’d seen and the caption read ‘allathat’s gonna be inside ya’. You kept the snap replaying on loop as you pushed yourself that last bit over the edge and came around the toy. You replied to his snap with one of your own, filming yourself pulling the large toy out, showing just how big it really was.

As you cleaned up you got another snap. It showed the view of Daryl’s back porch, leading into the woods that surrounded his cabin. The little text bar at the bottom read ‘cute. Lil’ small for ya, dontcha think?’

His words left you speechless and in the next week you spent some time shopping online and spending your savings on s little special number for Daryl’s eyes only. On the day your dad had to work a double shift you had called Daryl over and started to prepare as soon as he confirmed he was going.

This was the first time you were going to be having sex for real instead of just fucking yourselves in front of your phone cameras. You had already showered in the morning to save as much time as possible. You didn’t need to do your hair and your makeup was going to be ruined anyways so you just dressed in your baby pink lacy number with the open crotch and pink leather collar that held a large metal ring.

To finish off the look you had custom ordered a set of realistic wolf ears and a matching tail buttplug. Your knee high socks were white with pink stripes at the top and pink paw pas printed at the bottoms of your feet. You threw on a robe to welcome your visitor into the house and quickly led him up to your room.

“So whatcha got under here, huh?” His hands wasted no time and went to pluck at the ribbon holding your robe closed, untying it and throwing it to the side, taking in your lace covered body and exposed cunt. From the top of your furry ears to the bottoms of your padded feet you were looking like the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid eyes on. You bit your lip and did a little twirl for him, wiggling your ass at him to make sure he saw your little tail and turned back around to pull at your collar as you looked up at him.

“Ya really want me ta breed ya like yer a little bitch in heat.” His fingers hooked into the ring on your collar and pulled you closer, taking one of your hands and shoving it down the front of his pants. You squeezed his hard member and moaned at the idea of him buried deep inside of you.

“Alright puppy, why dontcha lay down all pretty for me, I’ll join ya in a sec.” He quickly undressed as you laid down, spread out for him on your kingsize bed. A pair of shining blue eyes followed your every move and as he made his way up to you he rolled his shoulders and snarled, hunching over as he climbed onto the bed and changing, shifting into his beast form that was at least twice his normal size. Looking up from the large fangs in your face as he lapped at you, to the enormous knotted member that put any of your toys to shame you suddenly realized Daryl’s joke that day.

“P.. Please- prep me first.” Your voice stammered and Daryl only laughed as to mock you but he still moved down until his muzzle was level with your cunt. He took a long whiff of your soaked smell before lapping at your folds and shoving the full length of his tongue inside of you.

The moan you let out was almost pornographic. So much it even shocked you with how loud you were. Looking down you were met with Daryl’s top jaw covering your lower belly as his tongue kept working your insides and his lower fangs poked at the fat of your ass. He let out an experimental growl that had you clench around his tongue. “Ahh fuck again..” Your wish as quickly fulfilled as he kept up his growls, sending jolts of pleasure through you as you squirmed under his hold all the way up to your highest pitched whines that left you as you came hard around his tongue. The appendage was slowly pulled out of you and lapped up everything that managed to spill from your lower lips. You were a heaving mess and you hadn’t even touched his cock, letting you know how insanely ruined he as going to leave you when he was done with you.

With heavy movements he positioned himself above you again, his mouth open and tongue still lolling out of his maw. With two clawed fingers he pulled your mouth wide open and let a glob of drool fall onto your tongue so you could taste yourself. He kept your jaw shut and rubbed your throat with his other fingers like you’d do to a pet that had to swallow its medicine, and swallow you did. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to show it was all gone.

With some more heavy moves Daryl moved himself comfortably onto the bed a hold of you and maneuvered you around to a fuckable position. Your hands were held above your head and one leg was pulled up against your chest as he rutted his hips against you, pressing his tip between your folds and moving further in with every thrust.

Choked gasps left you after he pressed in only halfway. The burning sensation of being stretched on his girth was one thing but you never had any of your toys, knots included fill you this deep. It hurt but there was no way you were going to make him stop. You wanted him so deep you could feel him poke your lungs. His face came down to lick at your cheeks, taking away any spilling tears and held your rocking hips still in a large paw as he slowly worked himself all the way in. You were so small compared to him, if he pushed in any further he’d tear your insides. He needed to take it slow until he as fully sheathed, but as soon as he was he could really set that breeding pace you so desperately wanted to experience. You looked down at his member being almost fully inside of you, only an inch and a half left between his knot and your lips. You watched as short ruts moved his cock in and out, the outline of it showing through the skin of your belly.

With his cock fully sheathed and his knot resting against your stretched lips he gave you a moment to breathe. His heaving breaths fanning your face while you rubbed your palms over the stretched skin of your stomach.

When you gave him the okay he started at a slow, steady pace and slowly worked up to the gut-wrenching breeding his bitch in heat pace he had promised you when he came in.

Rick came home earlier than he expected and to his surprise, found Daryl’s bike in his driveway. Normally when he came over he’d send a text and never go further than the garage. He didn’t thing too much of it any further and would find his brother when he’d find him.

Except the lower floor of the house was empty. Maybe he had gone off to the store to pick up new cigarettes.

He trudged up the stairs on his way to go take a shower, hearing the familiar sounds of monstrous growling coming from your room as he walked past.

Except why weren’t those sounds accompanied by the usual hight pitched woman’s screams or haunting background music?

What he did hear was something he hoped never to hear. “So close..” sounded your voice from behind the door. Without thinking twice his hand went to the handle, not knowing he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

There, in the middle of your plush bed laid you, ass right at the centre of his view, a plush tail dangling between your cheeks as your upper body laid splayed out across the pillows. Heaving chest exposed and covered in bleeding puncture wounds. A thick, pink leather collar around your neck and fuzzy ears on top of your head. One of your legs was raised up against the torso of what he knew for a fact to be his best friend in his changed form, currently balls deep fucking into his daughter. A large paw moved to cover your view of the room’s entrance as a thumb pressed past your lips and Daryl bared his teeth at the man in the door opening, signaling it was time to leave. Hands raised in defeat as Rick stepped back out of his daughter’s room and let the beast pick up his pace again right before he managed to close the door fully.

Your muffled moans sounded through the door as he decided to head out and go for a long walk around the neighborhood to make sure he wouldn’t catch any more of that ever.

“Ah Daryl, please..” You were so close again you were begging him to finish with you. You were so sore you were almost willing to beg him to stop. “Please, so close..” With your hands released again you reached down to squeeze at his knot, hoping he’d get the hint that you really wanted him to finish.

His head moved down to lick at your mouth as he sped up his thrusts, his knot pressing down harder against your lips every time. His tongue pressed past your lips and shoved down your throat as he tongue fucked your mouth. A padded finger rubbing at your clit had your eyes rolling back and your walls clamping down around his length, right as he rutted into you hard. His knot pressed inside of you and with a harsh pull it made it known it was really stuck inside of you.

You awoke the next morning with your thighs stuck together with dried cum and a naked human Daryl cuddling you.

As you tried to carefully get out of bed unnoticed you were made aware of Daryl being awake as well and grumbling a good morning as you moved over him to grab a robe and go clean yourself up as Daryl took some more time being comfortable in your bed.

All cleaned up and dressed in some underwear you went back to your room to find Daryl dressed and fishing through your hidden shoebox of toys.

“Ahem?” Making your presence known and passing him to grab some comfortable house clothes. You let him know you were gonna go make some breakfast and pray your dad had already left, but that prayer was quickly shot down by Daryl announcing he could hear your dad rummage around in the kitchen and you were going to have to face him.

Daryl offered to join you to soften the blow. You were too fucked out yesterday to realize your father had seen you two, also thanks to Daryl’s large paw obscuring your view of the door.

Once downstairs the two of you made your way into the kitchen, treading lightly and delicately wishing your dad a good morning as you went to make coffee for you and Daryl.

Without looking up from his morning papers Rick spoke. “I don’t want you ever doing that again in my house, understood?”

You shrunk into yourself before looking up in realization. “Y… You.. heard us?”

Daryl scoffed from the other side of the kitchen, seemingly unaffected by all of it. “Did more than just hear us. Gonna have nightmares for years.”

The pot of coffee shook in your trembling hands, almost spilling all over the counter. The idea of your father seeing you like you in such a filthy way had your stomach in knots.

The sound of papers crumpling and hands slamming onto the counter had you jump, dropping the spoon to the floor with a loud clatter.

“I trusted you with Daryl’s secret because you had an interest in those movies. Not so you could use it your for own.. Pleasure.” He had a hard time even saying it out loud, let alone look you in the eyes as he said it but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it. You were an adult after all. “In fact if you’re adult enough to make such decisions you are old enough to find your own place to do that stuff, but not under my roof.”

All the while he still hadn’t looked up from his now messed up papers.

You stood there with tears in your eyes, terror and anxiety washing over you all at once, uncertain about what to even respond to such words.

“Well,” Not even a single heartbeat later Daryl spoke up. “Looks like we’re headin’ back upstairs ta pack yer stuff.” Ha strode over to your side to move you back around. “M’takin’ ya home t’ma cabin.”

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: Will I ever stop writing monsterfuckery? Absolutely not.

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #twd au #twd fanfiction #werewolf #werewolves #monster x human #human x monster #monster fucker #tw monsterfucking

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holdmytesseract · 1 month

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☆ Campfire Sleepover

(APRIL 2ND - APRIL 7th)

2K Follower Celebration ☆

Dear crew members, readers and friends,

you are all invited to join in on my campfire sleepover starting on Tuesday (April 2nd)! From that day until Sunday (April 7th), you are more than welcome to send me asks/prompts/etc from the following topics/themes into my askbox:

FMK (including all characters of Hiddles, TWD, Doctor Who - or whoever you like!)

Q&A with the characters from my Baby Fever universe! 🍼

Q&A with the characters from the Ice Flower universe! ❄️

Let's talk music! I am an absolute music freak, so hit me up! Tell me your favourite song, a band you wish to see live - whatever you want!

Drabble/Blurb request - Give me a character, prompt and / or line from a song and I'll write a lil' something for you! (PLS be patient!)

Assumptions! Tell me assumptions you made about me, and I'll confirm or deny them!

Song of the day! Send a 🎧 emoji into my askbox, and I'll ask my music game to give me a random song for you - a.k.a, your song of the day! Could be fun, eh?

Characters I am going to write the blurbs/drabbles for:

☆ BabyFever!Loki

☆ IceFlower!Loki

☆Loki

☆ Magnus Martinsson

☆ Tom Hiddleston himself

☆ Daryl Dixon

☆ Kylo Ren?

Tags: @fictive-sl0th @gruftiela @anukulee @theaudacitytowrite @alexakeyloveloki @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @chennqingg @muddyorbsblr @glitchquake @mandywholock1980 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @mochie85 @dryyoursaltyoceantears @chantsdemarins @loz-3 @eleniblue @goblingirlsarah @icytrickster17 @crimson25 @lokidbadguy @hunny-beann @stupidthoughtsinwriting @midgetdemon17 @kimanne723 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokidokieokie @lovingchoices14 @valencia-rou @kikster606 @frzntrx @lokisgoodgirl @huntedmusicgardenn @linaax @km-ffluv @sheris532 @jiyascepter @salvinaa @lcolumbia1988 @blackholeofcreativity @soulpiercing @lou12346789 @loonalockley @liliac-dreamer @simping-for-marvel @jaidenhawke (Continuing in the comments!)

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thewritersaddictions · 6 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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virginsexgod69 · 22 days

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❝ Yes, Professor Grimes ❞

A college/ university AU featuring Professors Grimes and Dixon and Coach Negan

*all of these one shots take place in the same universe, but can be read independent of each other. if you'd like to make requests for this au, feel free!

✎ Proud of You - Rick Grimes

summary Rick comforts you after finding out your biggest fear is disappointing him.

✎ Jealous - Rick Grimes + Daryl Dixon

summary After getting drunk with your friends, you wake up at Professor Dixon's place where you explore something new. Rick lets you despite the jealousy brewing inside him.

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topazy · 2 months

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A different tomorrow

Tomorrow’s promise au

Pairing: Shane Walsh × reader, Daryl Dixon x reader

Warnings: None

Shane’s pov 2.06

Shane does his best to bite down on his anger; if it weren’t for so many people being around, he would be ripping Dixon to shreds. Rick and Dale’s voices fade further into the background as he focuses on Daryl. Through the open flap of one of the tents, Shane watches as Lily tickles Jace’s tummy with her free hand while Daryl stares at her, his eyes full of adoration.

Motherhood suited Lily; the last few years hadn’t been easy for her, and before, she looked haunted most of the time. But her vulnerable look was now replaced by something else—a mother's love, which had only made her more beautiful.

What caused Shane’s gut to feel as if it were twisting on the inside was seeing the small glances they shared.

He thinks about all the shit he put her through by sleeping with Lori and can see how easy it would be for Lily to develop fleeting feelings for another. Blood's thicker than water. Even if she had a crush on Daryl, with his bluntness and bad boy attitude, he would never be her family, not in the way Shane was.

Rick lightly grips his shoulder, shaking Shane from his thoughts. “We need to deal with this. I’ll get Lori if you get my sister.”

Shane nods. It turns out Carl had lied to Dale and gotten hold of a gun, and now it was a whole other issue to deal with. He looks over to the tent and feels his blood boil. He couldn’t hear anything from where he was standing, but seeing the small smile on Lily’s face irritates him.

“Lily!”

Shane feels as if he forgets how to breathe when he sees Lily leave their son in the tent with Daryl.

The son she had been refusing to leave with anyone else.

Between the cheating and what happened with Otis, he had noticed the shining look of love he used to see daily in Lily’s eyes slowly fading away; in its place was hesitation. The twisting feeling returned and pressed hard on his gut, making him feel sick. He wishes he could take all the pain he’s caused away so that he could see that look of love again.

A sinking realization hits him: Lily trusted Dixon to look after Jace more than she did him.

#the walking dead #Shane Walsh pov #shane walsh/reader #shane walsh x reader #daryl dixon x reader #tomorrow’s promise au #a different tomorrow #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfiction

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deansapplepie · 3 months

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Inherited | Chapter 5

Summary: You go find Merle and end up drunk with him. Rick Grimes have to call Daryl to get both of you. With the alcohol come some confessions and

Warning: Mentions of Leah (Daryl’s not a cheater, just stupid), alcohol consumption, drunk people, mentions of drugs, mentions about sex, Daryl and his lack of knowledge about technology, very small hangover, lil bit of jealous Y/N. Minors DO NOT interact 18+

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3,166

A/N: Sorry for taking too long, but the ones that follow up the things I share know how my life has been. Thanks for your patience, love you all.

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Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Why d’ya hate me?

Days passed and he didn’t say a word about the picture or Merle. You also didn’t find it in the trash, so you considered he kept it. Your conversations were simple and plainly about business, from time to time of course you’d throw a bitter comment at each other.

That day you didn’t see him around, he had gone hunting and didn’t even bother to tell you. Well, it’s not like he had to, but you lived together and it’s good to know where the people you live with are, for safety, what if the person is murdered or kidnapped and nobody knew where this person went?

You spent the whole morning doing some work for Aaron as you promised, by lunchtime he still didn’t have arrived back at the farm. ‘Fuck him’, you thought. You were also going to leave and you’d not tell him. You took your bag and the keys of the old truck, and left to do what you should’ve done days ago.

You took the old road going deeper and deeper into the woods. You were surprised you still remember the way, because when you started this journey you were afraid you’d get lost. Soon, you were parking your car in front of the Dixon’s cabin. You got off of the car and walked to the front door. ‘I hope Merle is here, and sober’, you thought. You knocked on the door, once, twice, 4 times and after 15 minutes you gave up. There was two options for Merle, 1 he was passed out after drinking and/or drugging himself too much, 2 he was out at town. So you decided to bet on the chance that he could be in town.

You drove your car on the streets, hoping to see him in one of the bars and you weren’t wrong. You found him just where you thought he’d be, at a bar. You parked the truck and went inside the bar to see your old friend.

“I knew soon or later ya’d come and look for me doll.” Merle said before you got close to him. “What took ya so long?”

“Your asshole brother, I guess. And of course, now I have a lot of job to do.” Once you got close to him, he engulfed you in a tight hug. A so welcome and familiar hug, damn Dixons knew how to give a good hug. You missed it. “How have you been? Your brother wouldn’t tell me a thing!”

“I’m busy during the week, working on some… business and hunting too.”

‘Oh Merle, you’re still involved in this kind of business?’, you thought.

“Don’t you get tired of seeking trouble?” You ask him, already sitting next to him.

“I’m not looking for trouble, I’ve been busy and there’s some years that I don’t get arrested. At least not for the things you’re thinking.” He defended himself.

“Still a hot head and getting involved in bar fight, ain’t you?” You know this was probably the reason.

“It’s making wonders to my friendship with my favorite officer Grimes.” You laughed, you knew him and Rick were far from friends, they mostly despised each other. Rick was probably tired of arresting him and having to call Daryl every single time.

“You’re really something Merle.” You missed his lame jokes too. You wish you had come to see him earlier.

“How’s baby bro?” Merle asked and suddenly the small cup of alcohol he had in front of him became very interesting. “He’s not talking to me. Since ya returned. Guess, I should blame ya.”

“Not my fault. I have no idea what’s going on in his head, I’ve been trying to make things easier between us, but… I guess it’s impossible. We can’t have a conversation without being dicks.” You said honestly, it really annoyed you all of this, and you had always found a good listener in Merle. “But… answering your question, he’s the same grumpy ass and I think he’s still pretty much affected by everything that happened to my dad. He always locks himself in his own shell, and it’s difficult to get past it. You know how he is.”

Merle nodded but didn’t say anything. “I think you’re right, it’s my fault he’s not talking to you. He mentioned I’m good at telling you things and talking to you. Because you opened your big mouth to scold him for the things I told you.”

“And I dun regret scolding him, he deserved.” He was a stubborn ass, he would never admit it.

You asked for some beer and appetizers and continued to talk with Merle. “He hates me Merle…”

“Pffft… don’t be dramatic no one could ever hate ya sweet pie!” Even drunk he managed to be nice to you, many times you got caught in your thoughts thinking why he couldn’t do the same for other people.

“He does...” You said, and then started bickering your beer.

You wanted to talk to Merle about the idea you had of him working in the farm with you, but of course you had conditions for it. He was already a little tipsy when you arrived, you preferred to call to him sober – if it was possible – so you took the afternoon to drink and talk to him.

The afternoon soon became evening and some hours later old John Lee wanted to close the bar and go home to rest and see his wife, but Merle and you were passed out in your table. The poor man had no option but to call Sheriff Rick Grimes to help.

From all the people in the world, you were the last one that Rick would think that would have to make him need to come to a bar to solve a problem. He took his phone and called Daryl, after what seemed like an eternity he answered it.

“Wha’ did he do this time?” It was late, for Rick Grimes to call at this hour, it had to be Merle causing problems.

“Not exactly him… he’s here, but he did nothing. Y/N and him are passed out at Lee’s. He needs to close the bar. Can you come and take them?” He drawled, his hand passing on his jaw, a little bit worried.

“Do I have a choice?” Daryl asked to no one in particular, he didn’t need an answer. “Gimme 15 minutes, and I’ll be there.”

Shortly after he got to the bar, he speeded so much that he didn’t even need 15 minutes. Your truck was parked in front of the bar, so he’d need to use it to take you back home. He wasn’t prepared to see you and Merle passed out. Your head resting on the older Dixon’s shoulder, while his head was hanging behind and he didn’t even seemed to be uncomfortable with it.

“ ‘m sorry…” Daryl apologized to the old man, it wasn’t the first time he had to apologize to him, it wasn’t the second time either.

“It’s ok kid. The young lady seemed like she needed to drink and a good conversation with a friend.” John Lee said and moved his head in your direction to indicate he was talking about you, even though it wasn’t needed.

“Hm..” he grunted he didn’t want to stop and think about what the man said, because if he did his line of thought would remember him of all the reasons you had for it. He took his wallet and asked the man what they owned him and paid it, like he always had to do when he needed to come for Merle.

“Why did she drink like this? It doesn’t sound like her drinking this much.” Rick asked Daryl in curiosity, of course he had already seen you drunk, being silly, happy and dumb, but never passed out drunk.

“Yer guess is as good as mine…” he answered and Rick gave him a look that said ‘you don’t think I’m going to believe it.’. He went to you and looked if you had a bag or anything, nothing. Just great, the keys were probably in your pocket.

“Y/N…” he called you, you just hummed in response. “Y/N, where’s the key?” Nothing. Freaking fucking shit. He didn’t want to be a creep and shove his hand in your pockets. “Ok… I’m gonna look in yer pockets and gonna take it, al’ight?” He said as if you were going to understand a thing in your state.

Once he found the keys he took it as fast as possible from your pocket and threw it at Rick so he could open the car for him. Daryl took you in his arms and stiffened when he felt you snuggling against his chest. Damn, there was a long, long, looong time he didn’t have you in his arms, and your smell it was still the same. If it wasn’t weird and against everything he had been saying and doing, he would allow himself to burry his face in your hair and smell it. He took you to the car and sat you in the middle of the sit, fastening the seat belt before he went back to Merle.

“Merle! Wake up!” He commanded and kicked his brother’s foot slightly. “Com’on sleeping beauty, I’m not carrying ya to the truck!”

“Do ya wanna some help?” Rick asked, by the looks he knew Merle wouldn’t cooperate.

“Think so…”

Rick helped Daryl taking Merle to the car and once everyone was settled, he left town with the two drunks and praying his baby, his bike, wasn’t stolen or harmed until he came to take it home again. The drive was long and silent, he had a lot of time to think about all sorts of things. When his thought came to you he tried to put them aside, but your head that had fell on his shoulder wasn’t helping it at all.

Once he arrived at the farm he took care of Merle first, despite the older Dixon not being able to keep his eyes open, at least he cooperated a little with his legs not letting all his weight fall on Daryl that was supporting him inside the house. He took Merle to his room in the basement and almost regretted it the moment he tripped on the stairs and the two almost rolled it. He put his brother in his bed and didn’t even bother to take of his shoes or anything and left to take you from the truck.

He had to carry you once again, this time you were a little bit more conscious because you wrapped you arm around his neck. You inhaled his scent and it brought a comfort to you while he carried you to your room, but it also made you remember that you shouldn’t, deep in your subconscious you fought a battle that not even yourself had any idea. He kicked the door of your room open, put you in bed and worked on taking off your boots. He checked you one last time and when he was leaving, he was surprised by your hand yanking his pulse and his name been called, taken by surprise he fell on his ass on the mattress a few inches distant from you, and he needed to be grateful for it because it spared him from the embarrassment and probably crushing and hurting you.

God damn, what could you want from him at this time and in your state? He looked at your face and you had your eyes half open. “Why? Why d’ya hate me?” You drawled, your southern accent showing up in your drunk state, since your brain was relaxed and you didn’t have to worry about masking it. You knew you didn’t need to mask it anymore, but the trauma you had with the other kids made your brain being in constant alert even when you didn’t need to.

He was taken aback by your question, it shouldn’t surprise him, you were 24/7 bickering at each other, but he didn’t have a strong feeling like hatred for anyone, except Shane, Dwight and Negan, but they didn’t count. Most people hated them too, maybe not Dwight but… “I dun hate you.” He answered. You had hurt him, but he had not gone easy on you and after that he said so much worse. Despite all the anger he felt inside himself and all the mean things he had told you, part of him didn’t know if he said it to torment you or to punish himself.

“So, why…?” You asked again and he was almost ready to say one more time he didn’t hate you, but you spoke first. “Why did ya sleep with ‘er?”

He was taken aback, what were you talking about? He hadn’t been sleeping with anyone. Were you drunk hallucinating? “You could have fucked any girl, we weren’t together… so, why her?”

“What are ya talking about? I dun understand. Yer drunk, go to sleep.” He said trying to free his arm from your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Leah… why her? I was going to call ya, I wanted to apologize, but that photo… it killed me.” Fuck. He had just slept with Leah once. After she showed him a photo of you and Aaron at uni. She wanted him to be mad at you, nobody knew you had broken up, he hadn’t told it to anyone. Until that moment, when he faked indifference and announced you weren’t together anymore. He didn’t think about it. He was 19 and stupid, and he had sex with her one time. But which photo? “Ya knew she hated me. Why?”

“I was stupid, stubborn and dumb. That’s why.” He said, he could see your eyes shining, the indication of tears. He caressed the hand that held his arm until you relaxed and he could release it. “Which photo are ya talking about?” He asked, gosh he really hoped you were too drunk to remember it the next day.

“The one… the one she posted on facebo..” and you had fallen asleep, as easy and simple like this. Facebook? Damn, he never had one. He hated all that social media shit. Probably that’s the reason he never knew about. He put a blanket over you and swiped 2 lonely tears that came from your closed eyes.

He headed downstairs and entered the office, turning on the computer. He took his phone from his pocket and called back to the last number that had called him.

“What the fuck, Daryl? Do You know what time is it?” A sleepy Rick complained on the other side of the call.

“Ya call me late at night to pickup my drunken brother from time to time, ya own me.” The cowboy argued.

“ ‘kay, what do you need?” The sheriff asked impatiently.

“How the heck do I make a facebook and how can I see the photos someone posted?” He threw the random questions that got Rick even more confused.

“You own me an explanation after this, and I want the whole story. Wait a minute…” The sheriff said, then covering the speaker of the phone, his voice resonated through his house. “CARRRL!”

The following morning you woke up with a stinging pain in your head, the sunlight that came through the window almost blinding you. You sat on the bed and felt your stomach aching. How did you end up like that? You just remembered being at the bar with Merle, drinking and… nothing. Everything was a blur. Did you drive back home in your drunken state? Impossible. No.

You got up from bed and took care of yourself before heading downstairs. When you entered the kitchen you saw Merle at the table and Daryl in the kitchen. “ ‘morning…” you said weakly damn, you should never drink like this again. “Merle, what are you doing here?”

“I had to pick your two stupid asses at Lee’s. Merle, I’m always expecting this from him, but you…” he said pointing his finger at you, a dishrag on his shoulder and a spoon in his hand. “It was as very unexpected, even coming from you.”

You sat and looked at him, finding very funny the whole scene. “Ok, mom. I’m not doing it again.”

“Listen here, ya little shit…” he started to say, but stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that he was actually behaving like a mom.

He turned back to the stove and put 2 bowls of chicken noodles soup with veggies and eggs. He put the bowls in front of both of you. “What’s that, Darylina? This isn’t breakfast.” Merle complained.

“It’s a noodles soup. Carol said it’s good for hangover, eat.” He said and went back to take a bowl for him, that wasn’t his usual breakfast, but no way he would do any other thing.

You looked at him, squeezing your eyes as if you couldn’t see things clearly. Since when did he listen to anyone’s advice? And was he this close to Carol that she went giving him advices like this? Did they get drunk together? “And what does she know about it?” You threw the question before your could close your mouth and keep the words to yourself.

“She’s a mom, mom’s know this things.” He answered as if it was obvious and sat at the table to start eating.

“Her daughter is 15, Daryl. She doesn’t get drunk.” You said taking a spoonful of the soup.

“We got drunk the firs’ time with less age than her, so I ain’t understanding your point.” He answered. If humans snarled, you would have snarled at that moment. Damn him and his necessity of being always right. “Take yer soup, and stop talking.”

“As if you’re the boss of me…” you muttered, but he preferred to ignore it and eat. Were you jealous of Carol? No, he shouldn’t think about it. The day before had already a lot of happenings to make him think about.

Merle silently observed both of you having your little argument. If he wasn’t busy with the food, he’d have to comment that you still had the hots for each other, but instead he chose to eat while he had free entertainment. That was a good way to start his morning.

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Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Inherited Taglist: @angelbunny222 @lightningyummy @maggie-atwood @ryoujoking

#daryl dixon x plus size reader #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl imagines #twd daryl dixon #inherited twd au #deansapplepie

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celtic-crossbow · 3 months

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So I Live a Lie in the Light

Setting: Forest (6 year gap) Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Tabby O’Sullivan (OC) Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; mentions of child abuse; mentions of pregnancy Summary: Daryl has a secret. He’s always known it could affect all of those he loved. Just not like this. A/N: Tumblr is being an uber twat right now and won’t let me edit so hopefully there are no mistakes.

It had been getting more difficult to hide. Emotions always made it worse. For most of his life, he had tried to hide from them; push them down and bury them. And that was before he was bitten. He had been so young and careless, out in the woods after a particularly heavy beating from his father. Nature had always been his safe place. That night, it was anything but safe.

He had thought it was a dog at first, a low growl the first indication he hadn’t been alone. He had stumbled through the bushes and landed directly in the middle of the dinner table. The creature was kneeling over the deer carcass, its clawed hands holding open a gaping hole so its canine-like maw could delve inside.

It had heard him, probably smelled him now that he thought back on it. Running had proven useless, its long legs catching up to him with ease. He remembered thinking he would die right there that night. Even now, he could feel the pain flare to life around the scar its teeth had left on his shoulder.

Then it had let him go.

His daddy had been passed out drunk when he got home, allowing him to care for the wound without explanation. He would find out on the first full moon since the attack that the creature had been Merle and what exactly that bite meant for the rest of his life.

So Daryl, a lycan, had kept his secret. It made slaughtering the undead while alone a piece of cake. Even when he was with his chosen family, he had strength he would never be able to explain if he didn’t hide it well. Had he not been so consumed by fear, he could have saved them. He could have saved so many of them.

After Rick’s supposed death, he had skulked off into the woods to find his brother’s body, dead or alive. He had left everyone behind. He had left her behind. If there had been anyone he would have told, it would have been her. He wanted to tell her; wanted to show her how much he trusted her. How much he loved her.

But he was afraid. The walkers had done nothing more than die and had become the enemy. What would that mean for him? A lycan. A werewolf.

Rather than live with her rejection, he chose to live with her absence. It was better for both of them this way.

Daryl had made her promise to never visit aside from after each full moon. He had been adamant and, so far, Tabby had held to the promise. She’d set the world on fire for that man, so even when her heart ached for his presence, she held fast to the agreement.

Until now.

Circumstances called for an earlier visit. She brought supplies with her but secretly hoped this would be when he’d return. It had been six years. Two day visits every 30 days or so just wasn’t cutting it. He’d always allow her to stay in his camp, sharing touches and sweet kisses and whispered words. Sharing his bed and his body. She yearned for those moments.

Maybe today was the day.

“Daryl, are you here?” Tabby peeked into the tent, surprised to find Dog stretched out on the bedroll but no archer. “Daryl?” With careful, quiet steps— just like he’d taught her— she crept across the forest floor. It wasn’t long before she heard the familiar snarls of a herd. Oh god, no!

She didn’t call for him. It would only alert them to her presence when he could be perfectly fine and hiding to wait it out. But why would he leave Dog? There was a new, unfamiliar sound as she closed in, an animal of some sort. Probably, being mauled and eaten, the poor thing. When she could see a few of the uncoordinated, shuffling bodies, she pressed herself against the nearest tree, carefully leaning around to the other side.

What she saw defied everything logical she had ever been taught up until the dead began to walk.

A large, black creature was slaughtering walkers left and right; taking heads and limbs and tossing them carelessly. It was covered in fur and stood on two legs at about seven feet, with decipherable knees but canine hocks below them. The fingers and toes were tipped with large, razor-sharp claws that were slicing through flesh like butter. The torso was comparable to that of a human but larger, broader with pronounced skeletal and muscular features. But its head… Its head was large with canine features: elongated snout, pointed ears, and a mouth full of dangerously sharp, dripping teeth.

Tabby was frozen to the spot with wide eyes, tears on her lashes, and only one coherent thought: Daryl.

Had it killed him?

The creature paused with a walker’s head in its grasp, raising its snout to sniff the air— and turned its black gaze right to where she was hiding.

“Oh fuck.” She whispered, stumbling backwards before she turned around and began to run back to the camp. There was a roar unlike any she had ever heard from somewhere behind her but then the sound of more walkers being dispatched. “Dog!” Tabby screamed, relieved when the canine poked his head out of the tent. “Dog, come! We have to find Daryl!” She saw the archer’s pack on the ground, choking on a sob. Why would he go anywhere without supplies? “Come, Dog! We have to—”

When she turned, she was face to face with an open maw of pointed fangs, rivulets of thick saliva stretching and falling to the leaves. She lifted her foot to take a step back, watching its eyes lower and then rise before it growled. She couldn’t die. Not now. She hadn’t survived years of slow moving corpses to be taken out like this when she was so close to everything she could have ever wanted, apocalypse or not.

“Dog.” She whispered, oddly concerned that the canine hadn’t made a single sound. She started to risk a glance but didn’t have to look far. Dog was sitting calmly at her side, looking up at the creature with his tongue hanging out the side of his open mouth.

Movement in front of her brought Tabby’s eyes forward. A huge, clawed hand was reaching for her, slowly. She whimpered, raising her shoulders and screwing her eyes shut. The touch on her face was shockingly gentle. When it pulled away, she released the breath she had been holding and opened her eyes. It was backing away.

It made a noise before things began to shift. Bones and colors and size, shrinking and morphing until…

“Daryl?!”

He was naked as the day he was born, a hand out against a tree to balance himself as if the change had sapped his energy. The look he was giving her was unreadable, so many emotions flitting across his face that she couldn’t pinpoint just one.

“Ya weren’t s’posed to come here.” He whispered.

“Yeah, I get that now.” She snapped. “What the fuck is going on?” He stepped toward and when she stepped back, his expression crumbled.

“Yer afraid of me now.” He choked on a sob, his chin quivering. Daryl walked briskly past her and grabbed his pack, jerking out clothing and proceeded to begin dressing himself. “Ya can go if ya want.” The tremble in his voice made it clear that wasn’t what he truly wanted. Besides, she came to tell him something and now, more than ever, it seemed more imperative.

“Daryl,I—” The redhead braved a step toward him, visibly trembling. Yes, she was afraid. Even so, something in her gut told her that he would never hurt her. She was afraid because she didn’t understand. She needed to know what this meant for her. How it changed things. “I need an explanation. I need to know—”

Tabby paused, standing straighter when he went still with his shirt halfway pulled over his shoulders. Daryl sniffed the air— once, then twice —and turned to her, his brow creased. “Ya smell diff’rent.”

“You can smell me? Like…a dog?”

“Lycan.” He corrected, pulling his shirt the rest of the way down. The archer began to step toward her, but she consciously made her feet stay planted.

“Lycan?” Tabby queried, blinking.

“Werewolf.” Daryl stated calmly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He was nearly in front of her now, taking a moment to lean in and inhale through his nose once again. “Why do ya smell diff’rent?”

“New body wash?” She giggled nervously, a fine shaking to her person but still not moving away.

He actually dared to look insulted. “Ain’t like tha’, Tabby-cat. S’ya scent. Yer smell. Ain’t yer clothes or soap or perfume. S’you.” The jig was up. She had to tell him and then he’d need to her what it meant; if it was dangerous. What she needed to do.

“So,” The redhead dropped her gaze, toeing at the rocks. “What happens when…lycans?” He nodded. “When lycans and humans have sex and that results in the creation of a little being?”

Daryl stood up straight, looming over her in a way that had never intimidated her before that moment. “Yer…pregnant?” Tabby nodded, her chin quivering. Daryl barked out a laugh and doubled over, hands on his knees.

She stared with wide blue eyes, incredulous. “You’re seriously laughing right now?”

The hunter shook his head and stood up with an expression of pure relief. “Thought ya’d got bit. Didn’ have the…dead stench but I didn’ know how else ta take it. Ya weren’ s’posed ta be able.” He sobered quickly, reaching cautiously for her shoulders. When she didn’t back away, he pulled her in against him. “Anyway, aint been through it ‘fore n’ haven’ ran inta many others like me, but s’far s’I know, ain’t no diff’rent than a human. Jus’…” he trailed off, easing his hold on her so that she could move back a little.

Tabby looked up at him, fear present in her trembling orbs. “Just what?”

Daryl bit his lip nervously. “Kid’ll have the curse. Ain’t no two ways ‘bout it. Don’ know how much or how lil’ it’ll show up. Could be born like a pup, could be human. Could change immediately, could take months, years. S’a lot I don’ know.” He let her go and turned away. “M’sorry. Didn’ think ya’d ever…”

Tabby stood in stunned silence, completely overwhelmed and more than a little frightened. One thing hadn’t changed, though. She didn’t think it ever would. She stepped up after a deep breath, wondering if he already knew she was closer because of super hearing or smell. Regardless, she wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her head between his shoulder blades, pushing back the mental image of them snapping and shifting only a few minutes before.

She still loved him. He was still somehow her Daryl, even if she had a lot to learn.

“I’m scared. You can’t blame me for that.” She felt more than heard him sigh. “But I’m not scared of you.” Now a sharp intake of breath, blue eyes searching for her over his shoulder. Tabby leaned back, only enough for him to turn within her embrace, pressing herself right back into his chest. His arms encircled her immediately, warm and familiar. “I’m scared for our baby, what it means for them. What sort of life they’ll have to lead. What precautions we’ll have to take.”

Daryl nodded but didn’t interrupt.

“I do know that I want this and I want it with you.” She smiled against his shirt, squeezing him tighter. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Together.” He repeated softly, a hand coming up to cradle the back of her head.

Pulling back, she gave him an all too familiar smirk, a mischievous twinkle in her wet eyes. “So, if I scratched behind your ear, would your leg shake?”

“Stop.”

@lilyevanstan1325 @willowaftxn83-87 @graciepies @sohhel @lazyneonrabbitt

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x female oc #tabby!#werewolf au #were!daryl #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl #Spotify

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bananafire11 · 5 months

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Some designs for the WoF and TWD AU a friend and I are making.

These bases are NOT MINE. I've only colored them. They are drawn by Joy Aang, also the creator of the cover art for the Wings of Fire book series.

Rick - SkyWing

Shane - MudWing

Michonne - IceWing

Carol - SeaWing

Daryl - Sandwing (NightWing heritage)

Merle - Sandwing (NightWing heritage)

And my own doodles

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lunarruled · 7 months

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The moment she felt him hit his release a smaller one echoed through her as well, though she was careful not to hurt his back. Kyleigh had noticed his scars earlier than that night but she didn't want Daryl to think that they made her love him any less. Her eyes were still closed, afraid that if she opened them she would wake up from some fantasy and be alone. Feeling his weight on her told her that this was real and an exhausted grin played upon her lips.

Softly she rubbed her nose against his, trying to slow her racing heart. Her hands began to slide up and down his back while she enjoyed just being this close to him. "Only because you're with me." She replied to Daryl, just wanting him to feel as good as she did in that moment.

@stuffandthangsandangelwings

#☾ stuffandthangsandangelwings #☾ v: Welcome To the New Age #☾ (Not Like Home)#☾ Not As It Seems: Werewolf AU #☾ c: Daryl Dixon #☾ relationship: Kyleigh and Daryl #☾ had to make a new post thanks to dumb Tumblr :(#☾ Ruled By The Moon (q)

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lu-vin-it · 11 months

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I've never requested before so idk if I'm doing it right and also idk if this is what u meant by soulmate au so feel free to just ignore it if it isnt- but maybe something where soulmates have the same mark or symbol as each other, and daryl and reader's is the little skull tattoo that he has on his hand?

Group of Outcasts

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Pronouns Used: None Mentioned

Word Count: 1,552

Warnings: None

A/N: Tysm to @stqrluvr for proofreading!!! Also one of the characters may or may not be named after @lov9r 🤫🤫

The day you got your soulmate mark was supposed to be the best day of your life, and for most, it was. However, when you get a skull on your hand, a lot of small minded— small town people, kinda go crazy. Plus, it didn’t help that you already had a bad rep around town due to your Mama leaving and your Daddy being a drunk. You were seen as trailer trash and nothing more.

It didn’t bother you all that much, it was a small small town and people were going to judge. You got used to the glares from Mrs. Thompson when you passed her house, the way the sea of students would part when you came down the hall, and the way police officers’ would pay extra close attention to you when you were around.

So even after you became an adult and your Daddy died, you stayed in that town, it was all you knew, after all. You kept dealing with the glares, the parting, and the spying.

Then people started getting sick. And people who were sick became these monsters. So you packed up your shit and went off. You lived alone in the woods for a while before coming across a group of 7 people. There was Timmy, a nice man in his fifties who was accompanied by his wife, Mia, a woman in her thirties, and their 8 year old daughter, Charlotte. There was also Cece, a seventeen year old girl who was desperate to prove herself to the group. And Grace, a twenty-something year old who reminded you a lot of Annie from Annie Get Your Gun. And last but not least, Johnny, a 16 year old boy, and his Dad, Sydney.

You very quickly became the leader of the group. You led them around Georgia for a while before you ended up being caught by some walkers and lost everyone but Charlotte, Sydney, and Grace. So now here you are with 3 people to look after, despite being barely able to look out for yourself, stranded in the middle of Georgia with nothing.

You were fucked.

“Y/N.. when are we gonna be where we’re tryna be?” You let out a frustrated sigh.

“Grace, I dunno how many times I can tell you. We aren’t going anywhere specifically. We’ll just find somewhere dry to camp for a bit. I don’t know how long it'll take for us to find somewhere like that so please have a little patience.” She glares at you in response. You return your eyes to the road ahead of you. You’d been through these parts many times searching for other signs of life but.. there was nothing. You often found yourself wondering if you four were the last humans alive.

“Take a left up here. Should be a neighborhood right down the road.” Sydney says, pointing at an intersection. You do so.

A few hours later you were slowly making your way through the neighborhood when you realized that Charlotte was missing.

“Sydney, where the hell is Charlotte!?”

“I.. I dunno she was just here..” Your heart drops.

“When was she just here? You were the one in charge of her, where the hell is she?”

“I—“

“Sydney.”

“I helped her get out of the truck and.. and I thought she was behind me.” You let out a chuckle. And then another one, and another. Soon you were hysterically laughing. “Grace, go look for Charlotte around the truck.” The girl nods and runs off. “You and me,” You poke him in the chest. “Are gonna talk. What in the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking; she ain’t my kid. She won’t ever be Johnny. You keep putting us together as if we’re gonna click just cause I’m a— I was a Dad. That’s unfair.” You scoff.

“Unfair? What’s unfair is that Charlotte lost her Mom and her Dad within ten minutes and now the man she looked up to left her for dead. That’s unfair. How about this? How about I leave you here.” His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Uh.. Y/N?” You hear Grace yell. Your neck snaps to her direction where a man with an eyepatch is holding a gun to her temple.

“Don’t take another step.” He says, his voice is coarse.

“Let go of her.” You spit back, pulling your gun out.

“I don’t think you want to do that.”

“I think I do. Let her go.”

“Why should I?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m not afraid to blow your fucking brains out.” He laughs.

“You couldn’t get me from this distance.” You see Grace slowly reach into her pocket and grab a knife.

“Couldn’t I?” You tilt your head to the side.

“N—“ Suddenly, the man starts screaming in agony. Grace had stabbed him in the neck. He fell to the ground, his gun going off a few times in the process. Grace grabbed the gun and shot him in the head. You run up to her.

“Are you okay?” You put your hands on her shoulders. She was shaking.

“Did I just.. I just killed him, didn’t I?” You sigh.

“It was you or him, Grace.” She nods slowly. “Now let’s find Charlotte.”

Thankfully, you did find Charlotte pretty quickly. She was hiding out in the truck after she realized she had forgotten her knife.

Two days later, You, Grace, and Charlotte were getting some much needed sleep inside of a shed while Sydney kept watch. It wasn’t too long before the shed door burst open, waking all of you. Sydney slowly walked in, a man following him with a crossbow raised.

“Who the hell are you?” You jump to your feet and stand in front of Charlotte.

“Names Daryl.”

“Okay, Daryl. What do you want?”

“How many people are in your group?” You furrow your brows.

“Syd, Grace, and Charlotte.” You pause. “What do you want?”

“How many walkers have you killed?” You squint your eyes.

“Man what are tou talking about? Why would I keep track?”

“How many people have you killed?”

“What? None! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“One.” Grace whispered.

“There’s a community, ain’t too far. If we leave now, we can make it by dawn.” You glance at Sydney and Grace.

“You’re just gonna barge in here, pointing a crossbow at Syd, ask me these unsettling questions and then invite us to move in with you?” You shake your head. “Go to hell.” The man stares into your eyes for a moment before removing the glove from his right hand. You look at him with confusion before finally realizing what he was showing you. He had a skull tattoo on his hand identical to the one on yours. He was your soulmate. “Oh.”

“So you comin’?” You nod slowly.

“Yeah, we’re comin’.”

The drive to the community, Alexandria, was quiet. Daryl barely spoke and you had the feeling that it was an all the time thing, not just because he didn’t know you. When you arrived at Alexandria, the gate opened almost immediately. You were welcomed in by a man named Rick Grimes. He asked you guys some questions before showing you to a house.

It seemed too good to be true. There had to be some sort of catch.

“Y/N! They’re having a little shin-dig tonight to welcome us into the community, you coming?” Grace asked as she walked into the house. You had been reading a book on the couch for the past day.

“No.. you gonna take Charlotte?”

“Yeah... That book good?” You nod mindlessly. “Must be.. ain’t seen you interactin’ with anyone at all. Not even your soulmate.” You glance at her. “Well.. if you change your mind.. I’ll see you there.”

That night, you could hear the party happening all the way from your house. It was disrupting your book. Okay, and maybe you felt a little guilty about being so curt with Grace.. So you got up and walked to the party. You stood on the sidewalk staring at the house for a bit, wondering if you should go in. Parties were never your thing. People were never your thing. Was this even a good idea?

“Hey..” You turn around, startled by the sudden voice. You’re relieved to see Daryl with two men behind him.

“Oh, Hi.”

“Er.. This is Aaron and Eric, guys this is Y/N.” You muster up a small smile for the men.

“It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Likewise! Are you heading in?” You glance at the house again and shrug.

“Not sure if I’d be welcome.”

“You can join us if you’d like? We always have dinner together when they throw parties. You can be a part of our little group of outcasts.” Aaron offers. You look at Daryl who raises his eyebrows. You nod.

“Yeah, okay.”

Dinner was lovely, although you didn’t talk much, you found yourself enjoying the company of the three men very much.

“Maybe you can join in next time too!” Aaron said as he waved to you.

“Absolutely. Thanks for having me.” You waved back and started walking to your house.

“Y/N, wait!” You turn around to see Daryl running towards you.

“Yeah?”

“Mind if I walk you home?” You smile.

“Not at all.”

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #soulmate au

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lazyneonrabbitt · 20 days

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Instincts

Daryl Dixon x reader

Daryl finds a woman with her newborn pup, taking them into the group. Slowly their bond grows stronger.

The group traveled by foot after losing their vehicles. Tired and worn they walked on the road when Daryl decided to move into the woods to hunt while the others rested.

"Don't leave for too long, we gotta find shelter." Were the last words he caught before he walked off.

He got lucky finding two squirrels rather quick, but his nose caught a different scent he couldn't ignore.

With the squirrels strung over his shoulder he moved through the forest, not a sound as he stalked low to the ground and using all his heightened senses to seek out the source of the scent. He usually never went after anything other than food on these short hunts, but his instincts were screaming to go with his guts and follow his nose on this one.

The scent grew stronger and he could now tell apart all the separate ones. Human, low to the ground. And wolf, like him. He was either walking into something amazing, or he walked to his doom. He'd find out soon enough seeing his target wasn't moving.

"Hey, ouch! Come on, what did I tell you about those teeth.." a sigh left your lips as you softly rubbed the cheek of your son, who was nursing huddled against your torso as you sat against a large tree, partially hidden by low greenery. "God damn, what child has teeth this sharp at a couple days old.."

You were so focused on the feeding child that you didn't catch the man who appeared from behind the tree until a crossbow was aimed at you.

The second you saw you curled around your child, eyes closed and waiting for it tk be over.

Daryl heard the voice of a woman complain. Teeth, babies. Weird. But he now had her location pinpointed to behind a large tree, and made quick strides to round the tree, crossbow at the ready.

The woman came into view and so did her child. He watched her duck around it and waited, but Daryl dropped his crossbow instead and turned around before the blush creeping up on his face could be seen.

"M'sorry. Didn' mean ta watch ya feed." You watched the man's back, one hand lifted and the other holding his crossbow loosely. You shuffled your layers back over your chest with lots of vocal protests of the fuzzy newborn in your arms. His whines and grumbles were so strange to you, never had you heard a newborn sound like that. But then again, you never had seen a newborn like this.

"So, what's a human doin' with a werewolf pup on 'er own? Where's dad?" He still had his back to you and kept his distance, knowing full well he needed to keep his scent off the new mom and child if he wanted to survive. Male werewolves were insanely protective of their newborns.

"Human mom's traveling with her son, surviving like everyone else out here." You weren't going to respond to that last bit. Not now, not yet.

"Righ, if yer alone ya can tag along. Got a group tha' won't mind havin' ya an' the pup." He had turned his head and peeked if you were decent again, fully turning to catch your response when he saw you were covered up. "How do you know what he is? You're too okay with this."

Daryl let out a soft, breathy laugh and sat on his haunches to be at eye level with you. "They're common where I'm from." His voice was so calm as you stared at the smile on his face. You watched him stare at your son who was squirming in your arms. He was restless and you couldn't understand why.

"If yer comin' I gotta ask ya sum questions." Daryl was back on his feet again, ready to start heading back.

"I want to join you." Your answer was quickly given, much to Daryl's surprise. "I'm alone, and have no clue how to raise him so if I can stick around and get help from people who know his kind I'd be forever grateful."

Daryl let out a grunt of approval and nodded for you to follow him as you both exchanged names. He still made sure to keep a respectful distance from you in case dad was still around, but easily led you all back to the road where his group still rested.

"Hey! Daryl's back." "Wait, who's that?" "He found someone?"

"Did you ask her?" Rick's voice cut through the chatter and watched his friend shake his head no. He stepped over to you but was held back by a strong arm before he could get close, only letting out a simple warning. "Keep yer distance."

You watched the man give Daryl a look before turning back to you. "So, miss. How many walkers have you killed?"

You gave him a funny look, unsure who in their right mind kept track of something like that. "A bunch. Mostly avoided them lately, I assume you can guess why." You gave the pup in your arms a look, but averted your eyes back to the other man who continued his questionnaire. "How many people have you killed?"

Fuck. "Two."

"Why?" The question came so fast you had no time to even think.

"First one turned when we were asleep. Hid a bite and I'm a light sleeper." The man raised his brows, a clear sign he was waiting for number two.

"I killed his dad." You nodded to the pup again. "Tried to kill me and take him when my water broke. Guy was a psycho." You looked down at your arms, bundling your son even closer to you at the memory.

Suddenly Daryl stepped closer to you, holding out a hand and watching as the almost fully black furred pup stared at him with big eyes and made grabby hands at his fingers.

"Ya had him on yer own?" You nodded at Daryl's question and ran a hand through your son's fur. "I'm still sore.. having to move around immediately after is the absolute worst."

Seeing you were alone and with a child you weren't seen as a threat and allowed to travel with the group, much to your relief. You never expected your life to get even a little bit better, but now that you were traveling along with more folks you felt content. They watched your back when you fed your son and had a very handsome man help you feed him leftover meats from his hunts.

You were falling for him. Your son was absolutely in love with the man and you were starting to head in that direction too.

It wasn't helping your case that you r son wouldn't let anyone else but you and Daryl carry him, so when your arms were too sore to keep going he had to step in and stay close to you.

Your group shared dog meat and cheered in the rain, all the way to the point of the rain turning into a storm and having to run to seek shelter.

That’s how you ended up where you were now, all together huddled in a barn, desperately trying to catch up on some sleep while Rick kept first watch, but your don wasn’t helping the situation at all. He was whining his little lungs out with no signs of stopping. You had walked around with him, tried to breastfeed and give him some meat but he wanted none of it. Carol had offered to look him over but quickly retreated when a small clawed paw swiped at her when she reached out for his tummy. You were desperate, on the verge of tears as soft sniffles escaped your lips. Not being able to quiet down the whining pup was bad enough already, to have you crying on top of that would be the absolute worst. You pulled him close to your chest, his side against the soft flesh of your exposed chest, hoping the feel of your warmth would help but again it did nothing.

On the other side of the barn Daryl had settled, just around a corner and out of view. He had been trying to sleep for longer than most, but was having a much worse time than them. The pup’s whines weren’t directed at the others. They were for him.

With the distance between him and you there was no chance you’d hear his frustrated growls under his breath. Each peak in whines had him quietly snarl until eventually he couldn’t handle the child’s desperate cries anymore.

“Can ya tell yer kid I ain’t his goddamn dad?!” His voice rang through the barn, a deep growling tone to it that scared you so bad you lost the ability to hold back the tears you were trying to keep at bay, and had your pup go from whining to full on crying. Loud scraping howls and cries shook his tiny body, no attempts to shush him succeeding.

On the other end of the barn you could hear the soft groans of Judith waking up and quickly joining the chorus of cries. With her awake and crying now as well the mood in the whole barn dropped to a heavy negative. On one end you tried to shush the pup and on the other end the rest of the women huddled around the young girl to quiet her down.

From your angle you could see Abraham sit up from his spot next to Daryl who remained hidden behind a low wall. You watched the large man reach out his arm and whack it beside him, earning him an annoyed snarl from where Daryl laid. “Get yer ass up to the lady and her pup so we can all get some shut-eye.” Another rude snarling noise sounded and it was returned with another harsh smack. “Get movin’ or I’m gonna get the lady and plant her pretty little self and the noisemaker in your lap myself.”

Abraham’s words made you softly giggle, but you quieted down when a tired grunt came from beside him and Daryl came into view. He rubbed a hand over his face and stretched out his back as he moved over to you with his sleeping bag in hand. “Move over.” His voice was stern, and you complied immediately, scooting over to make space for him between you and the low wooden wall. With his appearance the pup’s cries had gone down to sniffles and hiccups, his paws outstretched in Daryl’s direction while he was laying out his sleeping bag.

On his way to lay down your pup managed to wiggle himself from your grasp and clamp himself around Daryl’s arm, who had to pry him off while you apologized on his behalf.

“Ain’t yer fault.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he laid down and pulled the pup against his chest. With his one free arm he grabbed you by the shoulder and pulled you closer too, laying you opposite him with the pup nestled in between you. Almost immediately he calmed down and curled up to sleep. “M’sorry fer yellin’. Jus’ tired.”

You forgave him immediately, thanking him for going out of his comfort zone and sleeping with the two of you.

The barn was finally quiet, safe for the rain still pouring outside, and sleep soon took over.

The next morning you woke up to a pain in your chest. Jerking up you almost smacked Daryl who was now grumbling as he was woken up by your sudden movement.

He watched you sit up with a hand covering your breast, inspecting it by peeking down the neckline of your shirt while an eager furball made grabby hands at your chest.

“I think I’m gonna head out the door and feed him. Need some fresh air after last night..” Daryl followed suit after your words, he had some confessions to make and properly apologize for making your son behave the way he did last night. You watched him follow you from the corner of your eye and held the door ajar for him. With a soft thanks he shut the barn door behind him, crossbow in hand. He still kept his back to you as you sat down against the outside of the barn and got ready to feed the pup. He's always turn away until you started talking again, signaling you were decent enough.

You watched Daryl pace in front of you, chewing the side of his thumb in thought. "Hey, what's wrong?" Truth being, his pacing was making you really nervous.

He let out a groan and stopped his pacing, now nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another. "We gotta talk. S'about the pup." He shook off his nerves and sat down with you.

"Was he really crying for you last night? You yelled at him about not being his dad." You knew that. He was a kind stranger who helped you with your child.

"He kept whinin' fer me ta hold 'em." He's unsure how to continue. He had to tell you the truth before the pup entirely imprinted on him, if it wasn't already too late.

"Back when I found ya it weren't by chance. Picked up yer scent an' sniffed ya out. Got excited when I caught 'nother wolf."

He watched your face go from focused to confused at his last sentence. Deciding words weren't going to help him right now he raised his hand into view, taking a deep breath and letting his claws come out. Fhe skin of his finger pads darkened as his nails thickened and extented into full claws. "Pup thinks 'm his dad. Didn' think it'd happen so quick, m'sorry."

As you watched Daryl's hand change, yous son squirmed out of your grasp with all his might and plopped into Daryl's lap and grabbed at his wrist.

"So, we co-parent now? You know I'm mkre than fine being with a werewolf." Oh god, those weren't the words you meant. Yiu weren't telling him you were into him like that. Wait. Could he have sensed it already when you thought about it earlier?

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you watched him try to keep your son from climbing on top of him even more.

"Ya still ne'er named him, didya?" Daryl felt the change in energy and decided to change the topic. He remembered one of the women asking for the pup's name and you admitting to never giving him one. It was still something you ran through your mind every day, nothing seemed to fit.

The scene went silent aftet that, both adults watching the little furball as he dug his paws into the sand, fished out a worm and stuffed it in his mouth, swallowing it whole.

You scrunced up your nose at the action, but Daryl only smiled proudly and watched as the little black fuzz hopped around and jumped up to chomp at a fly, missing the first two times but catching it the third try.

"S'gon be a good hunter, tha' one."

Hunter.

"Little Hunter, huh?" It rolled nicely off the tongue, it fit. You looked his way and called for him. "Hey, pup. Hunter, come here." He quickly came back to you and plopped himself on top of you.

Daryl wanted to grab and hold you both close in congratulations of naming the little guy, but he wasn't the father. He should keep his respectful distance up, Hunter was only yours.

A lot of happened between then and now, where you sat on the porch steps of a home in a safe community.

Hunter rolled around in the grass in front of you and Daryl sat on the railing with his crossbow and a cloth in hand.

"Hey Daryl," It was Carol who came from the house, all dressed up nicely. "Have you showered yet?"

Daryl only grumbled at the question. "Sweety, why don't you go take a shower with him?" She aaked as she walked past you and watched you smile and saw Daryl's face turn beet red.

Not long after you arrived in the community Carol had taken you aside and told you about Daryl's feelings he couldn't put into words, and in turn her learning about your love for him too. Ever since then she had been trying to set you up.

You and Daryl already shared a room, still sleeping apart from each other but still actively being parents to Hunter. Daryl hated to admit it, but caring for your son helped with the anxiety surrounding his new home.

"You know, Dee? Catol makes a great point. Come on." You got up and motioned to Rosita to watch Hunter for you while you went to try something.

Walking over to Daryl you took his hand in your and softly tugged for him to follow and to your surprize he let himself be dragged into the house and up the stairs.

This was easier than you expected it to be, hsving him upstairs and in the bathroom with you in a matter of minutes.

When you let go of his hand and turned away to run the water you half expected him to run off, but when you turned back he stood at the sink. He was staring at you through the mirror.

"How come you're so distant again today? Yesterday you were good stepping up to me and hugging Hunter." Daryl was difficult to read, and you often needed Carol to translate for you, not that you could call her over now that you were trying to get closer to Daryl in this way.

His gaze kept following your movements in the mirror as you went to grab towels and place them near the tub, making sure you had all the needed soaps and shampoos and a brush and sponge at hand.

"It ain't jus' me in ma head, ya know tha' righ? Me, I wanna make sure m'not invadin' yer family 'n respect tha' he aint mine ta care for." He spoke while he watched you undress. His head told him to look away and be respectful, but somewhere a voice kept telling him you wanted this too. He had smelled it on you that you were happy and content around him, he only smelled love and adoration on you but with you never saying it was okay out loud he never acted on it. But now you took him here and stripped down to just panties and a shirt. "And what says the other you? The one that's staring at me right now?" He watched a wide smile appear on your face as yiu pointed at your eyes and then at him. He hadn't even noticed his eyes had changed as he listened to his feral side talk inside his head.

"Tells me m'wastin' time not bein' withya. Found someone who ain't afraid of us, survived havin' a pup. Keeps yappin' about havin' a perfect mate walkin' around fer me an' bein' a bitch fer not goin' for ya." It was clear in his voice he was struggling with this day after day, and you weren't making it easier by not just speaking your feelings to him. You led him here to confess, to have the balls to outright tell him what you felt for him in the privacy of the room.

Even barely dressed and inviting him into the shower he still didn't take the hint you wanted him. He needed the words so you gave them now. Standing beside him and turning to look at him you grabbed his leather vest and pushed it off his shouders.

"Daryl Dixon, both human half and wolf, listen to me." Your words made him turn to you, and just as it was easy to drag him up the stairs, it was easy now to undress him ever so slowly. "If you truly believe I'd be a good mate to you then, please.." You were giving him time to stop your hands as you ever so slowly pushed his shirt off his shoukders and followed his arms down to his hips. "I want you to make me your mate. Hunter has already claimed you as a dad and now I want us to admit to our feelings." Your fingers worked at his pants and got them open, but quit when his hands moved.

You thought he was going to stop you, but instead he reached for your shirt and lifted it over your head. "I wanna try withya. But ya gotta be patient with me, please." You, the human, had to be patient with the werewolf. It was adorable in a way, but you'd keep that to yourself.

"I promise to be patient with you. Except for right now, come and get your ass into the shower before Rosita gets tired of Hunter." With a laugh you undressed entirely and went to feel the water temperature and swap to the showerhead before stepping in. "I'm still telling you to join me in the shower, just to make sure you got the hint."

He may have been slow, mentally preparing for something so intimate, but he ended up in the tub with you. He sat half under the stream as you gave his hair a spa treatment and scrubbed his skin. You were scrubbing harsh, but he didn't mind. It felt nice to be rid of the grime and dirt for once. He felt good once you were done, and returned the favor with the utmost care. His touch was so soft, if you weren't facing him you barely believed it was him who cleaned you.

That night, long after retrieving Hunter and having a quiet family dinner you shared a bed for the first time. Just to sleep, nothing more.

Well, a bit more. Soft kisses, brushes of skin and cuddles were shared. Enjoying each other's warmth and find your space on the bed was the priority tonight.

The others all quickly caught the changes in your behavior about each other. The three of you were a real family all of a sudden and Carol gave herself a pat on the shoulder for getting her friends to be real with each other now.

With weeks passing you turned Daryl's downstairs room into his workplace slash quick nap spot and moved all the bedroom stuff upstairs and made a real, adult couple bedroom with a nook for Hunter's crib.

More weeks passed after moving into your new room and everything was so real now and it felt good, but nothing felt as good as certain words leaving Daryl's mouth after you came to an agreement a couple weeks prior.

"Smells so good, hun. Whatcha got cookin?" Daryl had just rolled out of bed after coming home late last night from a hunt. He sauntered over and wrapped his arms around your middle, hands resting on your stomach as he took a long whiff to take in all the scents swarming the kitchen.

You told him shat you were cooking as he followed your words with his nose. The fresh baked bread you went to grab early. The stew simmering in the pan and the eggs baking in the pan. But there was something else cooking, something you probably hadn't realized yet.

"Yer forgettin'bout yer oven, hun." You had yo know what he meant, you were so excited about it before.

"Dee, this kitchen has no working oven." You giggled as his chin scruff rubbed against your cheek as he kissed you there. "No tha' oven.." His hands spread over your stomach and squeezed soffly. "Ya smell even better than I hoped ya would."

You smelled different? You still used the same shampoo and soaps. And you couldn't remember you using a seriously different laundry soap either.

"Hun." Daryl had to stop you srirring the stew for a moment, turning off the heat under the eggs and turn you around. The irony of her joking about having to be direct with him to make him understand, and then now not getting it when he wasn't saying things literal.

"Ya smell pregnant." It was as direct as it could be. Straight to the point and perhaps the only way to bring this.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had your whole day planned full of tasks around the community, but you knew you weren't going to get anything done now.

But Daryl let you get back to your stew, staying stuck to your back with his hands massaging your belly.

"Can't believe it took so fast." You were thinking out loud now as you moved from stirring the stew to cutting the bread for the eggs.

"Well, ya better start believin' cuz tha' pup's gon' be here soon." Daryl was excited, for the first time in his life he felt like he wasn't that little fuckup redneck boy he was always made out to be. He was ready to be a father, and this time not of an adopted child but one of his own.

A/N: A very human were!Daryl this time.

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #twd au #werewolves #werewolf

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