#the walking dead Merle

[twigg96]

Merle X Reader HC/Fic

Sooo... I might have a thing for the Dixon boys lol.... Here are some HCs for Merle. Next in this series will be either Negan or Rick <3

Merle didn't do relationships... he normally did flings. Hot, steamy, one night stands that meant nothing to either partner. That took no emotional effort at all on his part.

Merle didn't normally do emotions. Emotions were messy. Emotions got him hurt. His emotional bandwidth was taken up by family. Or what was left of it anyway...

But then he met you... when his normal coping mechanisms of harsh comedy and pulling away didn't work on you and you only drew closer to the crass man only wishing to know him further... Merle started to become intrigued with you and these new feelings bubbling up in him. Although he wouldn't dare label the emotions as anything more than curiosity. You would say you and Merle had become thick as thieves.

He brought you home to meet his brother. Something he often did with some of his long term flings but something was special about you. Something different. He hadn't fucked you... as a matter of fact he didn't really want to or feel a need to... he just wanted to keep you close. Watch you hang out with Daryl in their little trailer and watch a shitty movie with an arm around your shoulder... if you let him. It was a weird feeling that pissed him off slightly. He knew your body was fucking smoking hot. He knew he should be simply banging you silly in his room, listening to this movie in the background, before moving on with his life. Not dwelling on whatever the fuck this new feeling was. But as you laughed at the movie, handing the popcorn to Daryl and leaning into his own side more, sharing a joke Merle knew would soon become an inside joke between the two of you, treating the younger Dixon as an equal instead of a pest or a nuisance who didn't belong in his own home like so many of his partners had before... it peaked his interest to peer deeper into those unknown emotions he was experiencing.

Taking you out to go hunting was just one way Merle showed his... interest in you. It was his way of showing off his skills in the sport as well as teaching you vital skills he learned in his life. Skills he hoped you'd never have to use. Skills he could never know would end up saving not only your life but the lives of many in the future. Merle saved for weeks at his shitty dead end job (dealing wasn't always what it was cracked up to be) to pay for all three of your hunting licenses (just cause he lived life in the fast lane didn't mean he always felt the need to skirt the law... didn't help he used a fake ID to get the damned things though) and everything you'd need to go in the coming weeks. If there was anything he could pride himself in it was semi-legally bringing food to the table.

Inviting you over the night before he let you take his own bed and to the amazement of Daryl he took the couch. Merle had claimed it was so that when he got up to get ready he wouldn't wake you, but in the morning when he woke up at the ungodly hour before the sun rose to find you already awake, completely dressed and brewing coffee, Merle was damned tempted to call off the hunt to spend the day at home hunting you. But Daryl coming out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and a tired far away look in his eye reminded him he had a duty to get meat for harsh winter ahead.

However Merle never had the patience to hunt normally... So he brought along entertainment and some accelerators that made the hunt go by faster and in his favor. Leading you through the woods the two of you walked silently saying a quick good luck to Daryl as he took off on his own. Merle knew his brother always did do better on his own and would probably out hunt you both, his proclivity to hunt from the break of dawn until the sunset baffled Merle. Settling you down in a small grove of oak trees Merle wrapped an arm around your waist pointing in the direction the deer would appear if he scouted right. The sun slowly rose into the sky turning it a deep red before it ascended into the sky. The cool fall morning never warmed above chilling and the eldest Dixon knew the deer were bedding down to keep warm. Pulling you to your feet Merle walked with you. He had bought cherry bombs from one of the dealers he associated himself with for a case such as this. Using a slingshot and a lit cigarette he shot them into the thick brush when he got bored. Laughing as they exploded spraying twigs and dirt into the air. He'd deal with the aftermath of Daryl's anger later when they got home... but for now he let the beaming smile on your face drive him. Handing the slingshot to you, he pointed to a different spot in the brush, lighting the bomb with the end of his cigarette. Thunk... BOOM. You both laughed as more dirt flew and several deer jumped from the brush. They each darted in several directions and before Merle could pull his gun up to take a good shot; a gun beside him went off. It was the first deer you ever bagged.

As time went on Merle started bringing you with him nearly everywhere. To the grocery store. To the gas station. But mostly to the bar. You didn't seem to drink that much. If you did drink it was only a few before you limited yourself. Merle never had that kind of restraint. He over indulged. He always did. He was loud, crass, and could be mean as a rattle snake when he drank. More so than normal. It seemed to only be exasperated when he was under the influence. But you never seemed to notice or care. Still connected to his hip all through the night. Laughing at his shitty jokes. Correcting his over crass behavior when he got too rowdy. Keeping him from getting himself killed by sneakily limiting his drinks through the night. Or simply diluting them with water or seltzer.

You truly were his angel.

When some guy with a death wish decided he wanted to try and force his way between you two. “Damn, girl. You got a nice ass.” The jackass growled shoving himself between you and the eldest Dixon. If you hadn’t given Merle a talk before you both left the house he might have killed the guy already. But you promised him you’d do your best to handle it and would flag him if you needed. So with all the strength Merle had in his his drunken body. He walked over to join his brother glaring holes into the back of the asshole’s skull who swayed drunkenly trying to whoo you off your feet. “Surprised you haven’t laid ‘im out yet.” Daryl drawled following Merle’s gaze, glaring daggers at the jackass. “Seen ya lay guys out fer less before.” He hummed taking a sip of the beer he’d been nursing through most of the night. Watching as you shook you head politely at the man’s advances, turning to the bar and drinking down your liquor uncomfortably Merle simply hummed. “Said I’d stay back this time. But if he lays a hand on her it’s fair game, little brother.” Merle growled shooting Daryl a look that spoke volumes. Merle watched as you moved your body further away from the man as he stepped a little closer keeping your arms tucked tight around your middle to keep from accidentally bumping into him. Merle watched as you shook your head again standing slowly and shaking your hand. But that’s when the asshole turned into enemy number one. The dick bag had the fucking gull. The sheer audacity to grab you by the wrist, shoving you into the bar, caging you there with his body. He stood over you stumbling only slightly as you shoved against him with all your strength. Merle didn’t have to say a word when Daryl sat his beer down, knowing exactly what was coming next following him willing across the country bar. Merle grabbed the bastard by the ear, dragging him out into the alley between the bar and the abandoned building beside it. Together he and Daryl made the fucker regret the day he was born.

The day the world fell into chaos Merle hadn't believed it at first. What a sick joke. Human beings returning from the dead. Human beings eating each other. The world falling apart. You had come over early in the morning before work. Cuddling up to Merle he somehow convinced you to stay home, call off. Even if he didn't believe the shit himself. He just had a... feeling. Now he was glad he had it. Daryl had been up on the mountain hunting. Watching as camera men risked life and limb to get closer to the action you both speculated it was only in the cities... and it was... at first. Then you heard the gunshots next door. And Merle's military training went into overdrive. Grabbing dusty duffle bag after dusty duffle bag of supplies he had stashed around the house Merle tied them tight to his bike.

It took three days for you and Merle to find Daryl out in the woods. Luckily for you both the geeks had just as much of a hard time. There were no biters out in the middle of no where. And if Merle had thought that an emergency would have lasted more than a week for three people, he would have packed more water. But he didn't and with the biters carrying some sort of disease. Merle didn't want to risk catching it in the water.

The three of you raided houses and small groups for a time. Daryl hated it. That much was evident. You hated it more. You had grown silent. distant. Though Merle couldn't tell if it was because of hunger or regret that had you pulling away. But he tried not to think about it. He just tried to focus on the survival of all of you.

When you all made it to the Quarry, Merle had origianlly wanted to raid it like the others and dip. But the kids... You and Daryl wouldn't let him. And so there he sat, a week later. Wittling a damned fishing rod for some broad he didn't know so she and her sister could go try and fish... Useless. Meanwhile you were being hounded by the big headed prick Shane. Every time he turned around he was nosing around you. If it were any time before three weeks ago he would have laid Shane out flat and thought nothing about it... But now... he had to act right... or Shane would kick them out... not that he would give a shit... but You were right. Even if he hated it. There was a safety in numbers.

Unfortunately... Merle could never keep his anger in check nor his mouth shut for long. The combination always seemed to get him in trouble. With the law - he was arrested more times than he could count and with more prison time than he probably deserved but let go because a fantastic lawyer. With ex-partners- he always said shit he would regret- it cost him a relationship with one of his maybe kids... he really should have looked into that before the end of the world... But now he was handcuffed to a roof. no hope to see you again ever again. All because his big mouth and bigger ego.

Finding the graves at the Quarry was the hardest thing he ever had to go through beyond war. Digging them up with one hand in the wet muddy ground coming down off of all his drugs to be certain none of them held you or Daryl... was his coming to religion moment.

The entire time he worked for the Governor Merle searched for you and Daryl. If Daryl had you he knew you were safe. Not that he doubted you. Merle trusted that you were out there somewhere now throwing cherry bombs into the woods to scare the deer into coming out for Daryl.

Walking in the woods one night on patrol Merle counted the stars. The moon. He never really looked at them before. You had tried once to show him the constellations. Where they all where at different times. Stars were your thing. Not his. He pretended to be interested. But you could tell he wasn't interested. He wished he could give you the time now.

Months into his service to Woodbury he was out doing the Governor's bidding. There had been a disturbance at the line apparently. He was deployed to deal with it. He hated his job but... it made the time pass. Better than in a jail cell he supposed... Searching under cars and in broken grocery store windows he disposed of a few walkers before watching a shadow scurry across the dusty glass of a hardware store window. "If yer looking to get a weapon yer out a luck... but if ya need a tool-" He froze. You stood in the glass staring back at him fear washed over your face before you ran to hide behind some shelves. Had you not seen him? Not recognized his voice?! Or maybe he was hallucinating again... it seemed to be a theme recently. He was seeing your face everywhere. Even in the paintings that Phillip had hanging in the halls. Walking into the store Merle growled rounding the aisles looking for you. This was ridiculous why- Oh... it was just a teen... Letting her slip past him he sighed pretending not to see them at all just willing to tell the teams that they were seeing shit again.

The trek to the prison felt like walking into death row. From one prison into another Merle thought walking beside Daryl. He didn't dare ask about you. Though the question burned in his mind so brightly that he nearly screamed it several times. It wasn't the time... wasn't the place. Not after the things Daryl had seen. Not after the changes he'd made. He wasn't the same Daryl that Merle left behind. More mature. Decisive. It was good to see in a way. It brough Pride to his chest in way that made him want to smile. It also brought tears in a painful way that made him want to scream and cry out for the time he lost. When the gates opened and only hostility came... you never did Merle looked desperately to Daryl who only could look to the ground. "Went out lookin' for ya." Merle shook his head turning towards the gate. "Merle." Daryl yelled. "I... I'll take ya too 'em." Daryl sighed looking very much like the boy Merle remembered. Leading Merle to a group of graves only marked with crosses not in a dissimilar way that the group at the Quarry used Daryl stopped. Feeling bile rise to the top of his throat at the sick feeling of Deja vu Merle shook his head. "Went out lookin' for ya every day... one day... didn't come back so I went lookin'..." Daryl sniffed gesturing to a cross with your name. "Found 'em turned and wandering back by Woodbury... not sure what happened... but we have our ideas."

Merle lived day by day and in a daze from then on. He lived for Daryl. Had to keep him safe. Like he always did. but it was different. Without you there to light up his life he was just existing waiting for what he couldn't put a name to it. So when the governor wanted to meet. A trade. Merle knew what he had to do. You died near Woodbury. The Governor knew... now... he would pay... he would know not to fuck with Rick... He'd stay the fuck away from Daryl and he'd regret ever letting you die on his land.

Impulsive. Merle had always been impulsive. and it always got him in trouble... but this time as his vison faded to black and a light shined in his eyes he was sure was the sun... he heard your voice... and he smiled.

[vilentia]

Surviving Together

Merle Dixon x reader

In the soft light of the fire's glow, the flickering flames danced across the rough contours of Merle's face, casting shadows that seemed to echo the hidden scars on his soul. It had been a long day of scavenging, the world outside still a battleground of chaos and decay, but for now, the two of you were cocooned in a fragile sanctuary you'd built together.

As you huddled close, Merle's calloused fingers traced a delicate path along your cheek, his touch more tender than anyone would have expected from the man who'd once been nothing more than a hot-tempered survivor. You leaned into his warmth, taking solace in the fierce protectiveness that had become the foundation of your love. In the silence, unspoken words hung heavy in the air. Merle had his demons, and you had yours. Your pasts were intertwined with mistakes, regrets, and a haunting sense of loss. But together, you found solace, and there was a shared understanding that transcended words.

The night whispered secrets only the stars bore witness to, and in that moment, it felt like you were the only two souls left in this broken world. As the embers crackled and popped, you saw in Merle's eyes the reflection of a man who had faced his demons head-on, a man who had walked through the fires of his own making and emerged, if not unscathed, then at least redeemed.

With a sigh, Merle pulled you closer, his lips grazing your forehead in a tender kiss. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, as if he were trying to mend the invisible fractures in your heart. In his embrace, you felt safe, cherished, and, against all odds, loved.

This was your way of saving each other. In a world where death lurked around every corner, where humanity's worst instincts clawed at the edges of your sanity, you and Merle had found a lifeline in each other's arms. It was a love forged in the crucible of hardship and despair, a love that whispered hope even when the world seemed to have forgotten the word.

As the night wore on, you clung to each other, a lifeline in the darkness. Your love wasn't perfect, but it was real, and it was enough to keep both your fractured souls from falling apart completely. In each other, you'd found redemption and a reason to keep going, to keep fighting, and to keep saving each other, one day at a time.

And Merle, as he held you close, thought back to that day on the rooftop, when you'd saved him not only from the walkers but also from himself. You'd stopped the bleeding from his severed hand, bound his wounds, and refused to let him give up. In that moment, he'd realized that he wasn't alone in this world, that there was someone who saw the good in him, even when he couldn't see it himself. You'd given him a second chance at life, and he was determined to make the most of it, for you and for the love that had become his salvation.

[virtual-systems-analysis]

(disclaimer: i know merle is a piece of shit)

merle actually wanted to be a good brother. he did. as much as it seemed like his only care in the world was how much of an asshole he could be, he really did care about daryl.

daryl and him were gonna rob the first camp together, so they could be on their own. together.

only reason merle stayed in woodbury was because he didn't have a reason to leave. daryl is the reason he was searching for. he didn't know if he was dead or alive. he couldn't know.

the minute he knew daryl was alive, they fought them woodbury walkers and left, then left on their own. when daryl wanted to go back, he followed. he wasn't gonna lose his little brother again.

when he saw those scars on daryl's back in season 3, i know the scene was set where we were to be mad at merle and side with daryl. but i saw merle's face, and that ain't just something merle can fake.

and those hallucinations that daryl was having. i know merle seemed mean but if my little sister was screaming those things at me, i'd survive just in spite so i could whoop her ass. <3

and merle, he knew how much this group meant to daryl. so he helped fight against woodbury. which ultimately lead to his death, but his last act on earth was for his brother. merle dixon cares about his little brother.

i know he's seen being a bitch to daryl, but come on. an older sibling's job is to be an asshole. i call my sister a bitch everyday, i tell her to die like once a week, but we love each other so much and i would do anything for her.

[mymanreedus]

"I'm gonna give her blood. Mine goes with anybody. Merle used to make me sell it when I was a kid for money."

[justanotherescapism]

TWD Imagines - How they’d react to you wearing their jacket

A/N: REQUESTS ARE OPEN! I have not been active in ages but here we are! I started a small business so I’ve been a little busy but back now!

Daryl

At first, he wouldn’t say anything. Just silently stare are you walk around with it on. But then he’d chuckle to himself, and walk over to you asking what you’re wearing. You’d plead saying it’s cold but you both know it’s comforting in a different way. ‘Y’know if you’d ask, I’d’a given it to ya.’

Rick

Rick would smile to himself, looking around to see all the people who have seen you. He’s a touch possessive, and loves that you’re so confident in your relationship. He’s strut over to you, kiss you on the cheek before making some cheeky remark. ‘Well, look’s like you really love me after all.’ When you’d turn to him, you’d be about to defend your choice, when he’d pull you into kiss him - deeply but sweetly.

Negan

He’d wolf whistle the minute he saw you. He’d strut up to you and pull you in by the hips, kissing you roughly. ‘Wow, baby doll, look at you.’ You’d be a blushing mess, which only spurs him on. Let’s just say, you wouldn’t be in his jacket for much longer.

Merle

Merle would laugh at you. You’d get annoyed thinking he was been mean, really he was baffled. You’d take it off, leaving it with him, he’d get really quiet. Walking away, he watch you, annoyed at himself. He’d grab the jacket, and find you sitting out by the fence, watching the prison field. He’d drape the jacket over your shoulders, and apologise.

Shane

To him, it was the hottest thing you’d ever done. Everyone already knew you were his, but to see you rubbing it in peoples faces. He’d go feral, claim you need to go on a run, but really it’s just to get you alone for a while ;)

[darylmydix]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon – 001

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 1.7k

Warm water trickles your skin, washing away your filth. Physically you weren’t dirty, but subconsciously you felt that way; you’re curled up in the fetal position on the bathtub floor, as still as a frightened rabbit. Your body felt numb, and you envisioned yourself anywhere but where you were now.

You had been laying in this position for about 20 minutes now. You knew eventually you’d have to get up. You didn’t want the wrath of your stepmother banging on the door shouting about how you were running up the water bill.

You finally find your strength to get up, turning off the water. You sit for a few more minutes in silence. It was quiet in the house. You figured your stepmother had gone to bed. You grab your towel from atop of the toilet tank, standing up to wrap it around your body.

You step onto the shaggy rug outside of the tub, drying your feet off. Last thing you wanted to hear was complaints about how you left the floor wet. Your stepmom would bitch about anything if she could.

You open the door, peeking your head out to make sure she wasn’t walking around the hallway. It was radio silence, and dark. You shuffle down to your bedroom, your feet pattering against the hardwood floors. You notice your stepmother’s bedroom door was closed, officially confirming that she was indeed asleep.

You softly close your bedroom door behind you, letting out a meek sigh. You dry yourself off, quickly trying to change so you could head out for the night. You needed the fresh air. You felt suffocated the longer you stayed in here. You grab your set of house keys from your nightstand, leaving back out of your bedroom. You tiptoe past your stepmom’s room, making your way into the living room.

You slipped on your shoes that were sitting by the front door, and you were almost home free until you heard her voice. “Going somewhere?” You jump in surprise, the lights suddenly flicked on to reveal your stepmother sitting at the dining room table. She’s sitting with a bottle of tequila on the table, the glass she was drinking it from in her hands. She was drunk to all hell.

“I’m– I’m just going for a walk…” You stutter, timidly. She scoffs. “Don’t lie to me. You’re going to those trailer parks to see that hillbilly Dixon boy, aren’t you?” You don’t respond, and she snickers. “Those boys ain’t nothin’ but trouble. I don’t see why you even go over there. What’re you doing? Letting them run a train on you?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, holding back your tears. “I’m just going for a walk.” You repeat, opening your front door to leave. “Make sure you get your money's worth, you slut!” She shouts. You slam the door behind you, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

You stuff your hands in the pockets of your sweater as you make your way to the trailer parks. It wasn’t too far from where you lived, probably like a 20 minute walk if you had to estimate it.

Your best friend Daryl Dixon, who you were on your way to see, used to live a couple blocks down from you. That was before the house fire that claimed the life of his mother happened. Now he, his older brother Merle, and their father Will were living in a shaggy trailer park neighborhood.

“Right where they belonged” your stepmother would say. You make it to the trailer parks, walking through until you get to the Dixon residence. You notice their lights were on, meaning they were likely awake. As you readied yourself to walk up the stairs, the sound of a loud crash makes you freeze. “You ever talk to me like that again, boy, I’ll make you wish you died in that fire too. Ya hear me?!”

Will Dixon could be heard yelling from inside. A pretty normal occurrence for the Dixon home. “Man, get off me!” You hear Daryl shout back, his heavy southern accent easy to distinguish. “You leave out that door boy, you can sleep out there tonight.”

“Like I give a damn!” The door is suddenly ripped open, and Daryl steps outside, slamming it close behind him. The brunette pauses as he sees you at the end of the stairs, staring up at him. He’s quiet for a moment. “You heard all that?” He asks, coming down the steps towards you.

“Just the end of it.” You say. You notice there’s a cut on his lower lip. Your eyebrows knit together in concern as you reach up, letting your thumb gently brush over the wound. “Your lip’s busted.” You frown. Daryl winced, moving his head back from your touch.

“To hell with it.” He mutters. “Whad’ya doin’ here?”

Your head tips to the side slightly, and you give him a small smile. “I’m always here.”

You and Daryl sat without a word, your backs rested up against a southern magnolia tree in the woods. This was a spot you two always went when you wanted to get away from everything. It usually involves you both in silence listening to wildlife. You didn’t mind it. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words anyway. Hasn’t been since his mom’s death. Regardless of if you guys did talk or not, you were just happy to be in his presence.

“Merle’s in jail.” He disrupts the silence, picking a stick off the ground before he begins to break it apart piece by piece. Merle was always in jail so that didn’t surprise you one bit.

Both the Dixon boys weren’t strangers when it came to trouble, but Merle was the worst of the two. Anytime Daryl caught himself in any trouble with the law it came from dumb shit Merle dragged him into.

You truly couldn’t stand Merle, but you could never tell that to Daryl. His loyalty to his older brother was impeccable. You hope one day he could get out of that phase and come to the realization that Merle wasn’t good for him.

“What did he do this time?” You ask, not really needing to as you could guess that it probably involved him assaulting someone. He wasn’t exactly a people person. “He beat the hell outta some guy in a bar.”

‘Bingo. Right on the mark.’

“That brother of yours isn’t gonna be satisfied until he’s locked in there for life.” You mumbled. Daryl shoots you a look. “What? You can’t just go around beating people up without consequences. That’s not how the world works.”

“Asshole probably deserved it.” He murmured, chucking the stick. You roll your eyes, deciding not to push the subject any further. You hear Daryl wince, and you look over to see him messing around with the cut on his lip.

You dig in the pockets of your sweater in search of something you could wipe the blood off with. Great forces are on your side as you pull out an alcohol prep wipe. You often carried them around for moments like these. This isn’t the first time you’ve cleaned up a wound left on Daryl by his father, or even a wound on yourself.

You rip open the package before gently grabbing the brunette’s face to make him look over at you. “Hold still.” You say, placing the wipe on his open wound. He winces again, trying to move his head back but you don’t let him. “Oh cut it out you big baby, it’s not that bad. You don’t want it to get infected, do you?”

Daryl grumbles, but sits still to let you work. It’s quiet as you do, nothing but the sound of an owl hooting. You could feel Daryl’s eyes on you, and your focus shifts from his lip to his blue hues. “What?”

“That come from her?” He questions, nodding his head to the choke bruise on your neck. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before. You swallow a lump that was beginning to well up at the back of your throat and shake your head. “She had another guy come by today. This one was into choking…”

Daryl’s jaw clenched in anger. Every time he heard about the men your stepmother invited over he just wanted to go there himself to rid you of the burden once and for all. But he didn’t want to put you in a worse situation than you already were in. “You don’t deserve what she’s doin’ to you.”

“Neither do you.” You remark. “But that’s just our reality.”

“Don’t have to be.” He declared. You pull the wipe from his lip, deciding it was clean enough. You ball it up, tossing it wherever on the ground. “Done.” You smile faintly, moving on from the topic. You didn’t want to think about it right now. “S’gettin’ late,” he comments. “Want me to walk you back home?” He offers.

“What’re you gonna do?” You remember his dad telling him not to come back. You’d think that he truly didn’t mean that but even you knew that Will made sure there was no way Daryl could get back inside the house tonight. “I’ma come back here to sleep. Ain’t the first time my old man’s kicked me out. Damn sure ain’t gonna be the last.”

You nod. “Then it looks like I’m staying.” You insist, settling against the tree. Daryl shakes his head. “I don’t need you to-”

“Shut up.” You cut him off before he could argue. “I’m staying.” You lean your head against the tree, your eyes closing. Daryl stares at you for a moment. Your stubbornness amazed him sometimes. It was worse than his own, but he knew he couldn’t fight you when you made up your mind on something.

“Fine.” He says, settling against the tree along with you. You scoot a bit closer to the brunette, letting your head fall on his shoulder. He tenses a bit, but calms his nerves. His body relaxes underneath you.

“Hey.” Daryl mutters, unsure if you’re awake or fast asleep already. You hum in response. “You really ain’t gotta be here.” He tries once more to change your mind. You smile.

“I’m always here.”

Taglist:

@daryldixmedown, @supernaturalstilinski, @vampiresluv, @myassisasolarsystem

[apocalypticclownin]

What's so tragic and difficult about season 1-2 walking dead and their treatment of daryl is how hard he tried to be a good member of the group. he defended camp in season 1, he fought to get out of the c.d.c with everything he had, he saved t-dog with no hesitation, he looked for sophia (he looked for that girl every single day!!) the moment they told him they needed something daryl made it happen. he even had the drugs to fight tdogs infection. AND he was offering everyone as much comfort as he could along the way. The way his conversations with carol and andrea went,,,, the man just wanted to make things okay in his on way. and people judged him so much for being a hick and never thanked him for all of the effort he put into everything he did- and because they never thanked him and showed him the kindness he deserved he genuinely thought they looked down on him in the way merle said.

ugh

season 2 daryl dixon you mean everything to me

[grimesgirll]

rickyl x reader but with rare jealous!daryl

daryl shouldn’t be seething at the sight of rick’s head in your lap.

there’s no reason at all he should be thinkin’ about skinning his best friend. it’s jealousy at its finest.

he can hear merle now, taunting him. he wonders if his brother would call him a “fuckin’ pansy” or a “pussy” first. fuming inwardly all by himself on his recliner. the piece of furniture begins to feel like an island. it’s even worse imagining he’s just watching you and rick.

once upon a time, daryl got a kick out of seeing you get those pretty, big brain thoughts fucked out of your head for just a moment while rick splits you open. there’s something in seein’ you all fucked out, thinking about fueling the fire between your legs only. the legs that daryl often threw over his shoulders, diving tongue first in your paradisal cunt. that would be before rick rolled his way in and insisted he be the first to stuff your tight, yearn slick pussy.

merle would rag on him for that.

“aw, poor cucked, fuck,” he’d try to stifle his laugh but end up roaring in laughter.

daryl does the same thing he did when his brother was alive and ignores the thought. the thought of you can’t be banished from his head though.

no, not when you’re running your hands through rick’s hair and looking down at him, lips moving in sweet muted conversation that daryl is too green to comprehend. he’s feeling selfish now and wishing you two could go somewhere alone.

moments alone with you hit different now. they’re rare but they exist.

like after he and rick spend the better half of the night taking you apart from the inside out, and you and him sneak out to the porch for a cigarette once rick’s fallen asleep.

sometimes daryl thinks rick sleeps worse than judith - the sheriff is basically an insomniac without you. you’re the miracle cure for the horror induced nightmares. it’s like a good spooning with you clears his head, but daryl can’t really fault rick for that. he does however absolutely loathe the sixth sense the constable has for when you’ve strayed away from his arms in the night.

the man’s head is swimming at the thought of you in his arms when there’s a knock at the door.

your glinting eyes are rolling but you’re calling out for your guest to, “come in!” rick’s scowl couldn’t be larger but he fixes his face once maggie comes into view.

maggie looks between you and rick, even sparing a glance at daryl before attempting to stifle a laugh and clearing her throat. “i’m sorry to interrupt, but deanna needs you at her house to discuss important matters.”

you feel rick tense beneath you. barely able to contain your own pouts, you gaze back up at rick and he takes that as his signal to connect your lips one last time. shining under the living room ceiling lights, the two of you mash wantonly wetted lips. lost in each other, you don’t feel the pissed off redneck across the room.

finally breaking apart, you whine and rick almost scolds you, wondering if you have any respect for maggie’s image of you. when he glimpses over your shoulder and catches sight of maggie’s grin, he’s smirking. daryl wants to go out into the woods and shoot something.

“well, duty calls.”

rick’s rolling you off of him, leaving you with another breathless kiss and nodding daryl’s way.

daryl struggles to maintain a cordial face. this doesn’t go unnoticed by rick, who would’ve asked what was up with his typically mellow friend had he more time. the younger man’s more than relieved to see rick and maggie meandering out the door.

“dare’.”

damn, he almost forgot about you.

blue irises meet your dilated centers. the darkened, passion cast pupils beckon him to resume where rick had left off. a hand pats the patterned sofa.

that stirs him from his moodiness - slightly.

you’re assuming your position in his lap once his ass hits the cushion. hands gently wring around his neck until you’re sat firmly on top of him, gaze unmistakable.

“what’s goin’ on with you?”

startled, his breath hitches in his throat. his adam’s apple throbbing uncomfortably peaks your attention. you frown at him until his pink lips move slowly.;

“i feel like i haven’t even seen you lately, baby. and we live in the same fuckin’ house.”

your face falls at the words. “really?” you ask, wanting him to go on. the distraught look painting your typically sunny face has him not wanting to, but he does because you asked.

“you’re always on him, he’s on you. you touch me too and i know you love me. i know you like goin’ out in the woods with me but you feel so fuckin’ far away when you’re right there.”

“i’m so sorry, dare’.”

he’s quick to stop you. “it’s not your fault, baby, it’s not rick’s either-,”

“-no!” you interject, grinding down onto him by accident, eliciting a groan from him which you quickly apologize for.

daryl slaps your fleece covered ass lightly. “don’t apologize for being fuckin’ hot, baby.”

you giggle, leaning down to kiss him. he’s slowly but surely fading into this fairytale kiss you’re bestowing upon him until he hears another apology on your lips.

“baby, it’s okay.”

“no, it’s not.” you’re almost in tears now. puffy lips quake and purse. “you should never feel that way.”

“it’s fine, hon’, i feel better just telling you, an’ gettin’ it off my chest.” he assures you, playing with the top of your fleece shorts.

your eyes trail down to the drawstring of your shorts, and you wipe away a tear, revealing a yearning smile.

“would this help?”

daryl suddenly rolls into you, pelvis pistoning against the pillowy fabric of your shorts. he shrugs. “i don’t know.” he grunts. “maybe.”

you laugh. angling your hips, you dial up the pressure you’re coasting against beneath you when you come closer. daryl straightens to meet you for a kiss, succumbing to you, immersed until you whisper against him, “c’mon, i wanna feel you inside of me.”

daryl raises an eyebrow. “baby, i haven’t stretched you out.”

you shake your head, laughing. “you and rick already took care of that last night. you could stop fucking me for three days and as long as i’m wet-,” you get a blushed out look on your face. “-which isn’t hard around here.”

your lover’s face turns cocky. “you like being ready after being stretched out by two cocks?” pride laces his question. rick could irk him but he did love sharing you with his best friend more than anything.

that pretty little head nods up and down like it’s obvious.

“you gonna take me out and sit on me, baby?”

you’re nodding even more obediently now. falling into the instructions that have your pretty little clit swelling beneath your bottoms. that sends your hands racing to tug down daryl’s jeans, circling your hips as well to quickly spare a hand and work down your shorts. the sight has daryl straining.

“don’t make me wait, you know i can’t,” he complains with a kiss to your neck.

“mhmm,” you hum in agreement and tug down the waistband of his underwear, allowing him to help you with your peach pantone panties.

you involuntarily lick your lips upon seeing his gorgeous cock. the gigantic head primarily has your attention. has it always looked this big? you wonder. you want to take it into your mouth but the urge to give daryl that comfort he deserves has you hovering your already slick pussy above his hardened cock.

all at once, you let your hips descend and the first inch or so of daryl disappears inside of you.

“damn, girl.” the sensation has him crooning and singing your praise as you waste no time rocking up and down to develop that sloppy wetness on him - like you’re greasin’ a fuckin’ pole.

“mhm,” you whine. daryl’s awestruck face, scrunched from how tight you are despite your words, suddenly clears any stress or unease. he’s loving this, you remind yourself. an idea fills your head and before you know it, your begging for a hickey.

“huh?”

“a hickey!” you groan, bouncing with your hands firmly on his chest.

“then c’mere, baby,” and daryl’s clutching you down towards him as soon as you lean in. “i’ll mark you up however you want.” those thoughtful lips imprint into your skin immediately.

you gasp and wriggle against his loving mouth. he feels so wonderful, playfully bruising you with light scrapes of teeth and a roving tongue so well that your thought almost gets fucked out of you.

“want you to mark me up for when rick gets home,” you tell him, panting and squirming with pleasure on top of him.

length brushing against your walls which are flush against him like quicksand, those words are dangerous. he does his best not to fuckin’ jackhammer you to oblivion just at the thought of rick comin’ home to you all purple from daryl’s mouth - the mouth that was already obsessed with your pretty girl clit and taking a vacation between your legs.

“yes, whatever you want, baby.”

“ah!”

you’re not ready for the bite that isn’t as light as you’d expected.

“so tight on me.” daryl chuckles, suckling on the sensitive skin. “felt you clenchin’ like you’re ready, baby girl.”

“does my pussy feel good? squeezin’ you?” you ask, eyelashes fluttering.

daryl almost finished in you right then and there.

“course it does.” he replies without missing a beat. “what kind of question is that?”

the answer and the pace daryl is adopting has you seeing stars. heat is what you plunge into as you slide up and down on daryl. he’s dragging you up and down against him, hands burying fingernail marks in your soft hips while he fucks up into you and worships your shoulder.

the bite to your shoulder is what sends you tumbling into the tirade of pleasure that’s your orgasm.

on the living room sofa, you gasp and cry, tears falling into daryl’s hair as he takes a tit into his mouth, biting down. it’s a soft graze of cautious teeth but you yelp, startled by the pleasure and the spurting of warm come in your tight little cunt.

foreheads bowed against each other’s, you both find a rhythm in your breath - and each other’s lips again.

it’s when you and your lover are unsurprisingly making out again, once you take just a moment to breathe and pull apart, the question’s blurting from your lips;

“you know i love both of you, right?”

daryl softens beneath you. the hands on your waist rub languid, lazy patterns as daryl nods at you. “i do, baby.”

the twinge of a smile is on your lips until you’re suddenly remembering how you got to asking that question and straddling your dare’ like this in the first place. “but you shouldn’t feel that way.”

daryl’s shaking his head, ready to tell you that it’s fine, he’s fine but then you’re saying;

“how could i ever make it up to you, dare?’”

a million possibilities filter through his mind at once. there really isn’t an apology he won’t accept from you.

“how about a hunting trip? just the two of us.”

“i love your mind, baby.” he grunts, bucking up into you with that seemingly impatient, girthy rod.

you giggle in triumph, letting a pretty grin overtake your face. “alright now, back to where we were, huh?” you bear down to capture daryl’s mouth in a kiss, tonguing your way inside for just a brief moment before parting lips. “rick will be back from watch in an hour. how many hickies do you think you can give me before then?”

[violettwrites]

quiet birthdays — trailerpark!daryl

a/n: hi my lovelies ! i actually had a lot of fun writing this, and i really hope you enjoy ! i love writing the trailer park trio so much !!! i also listened to the birthday party by the 1975 while listening to this, but you don't have to ! it just fit the quiet vibes of the story when i wrote it.

as always, if you enjoyed reading this, please don't forget to like, reblog, and/or comment !! you know i always appreciate your support !

summary: anon requested ! reader keeps quiet about her birthday, but the dixon brothers find a way to make it special

warnings: none !

word count: 1,308

resources: divider by @/adornedwithlight

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the sun had already begun to dip below the horizon when you pulled into the trailer park, the air thick with the lingering heat of the day. your limbs ached with hours spent on your feet at work, and all you could think about was getting home, throwing yourself into bed, and forgetting that today was supposed to be special. it was your birthday— though you hadn’t bothered to mention it to anyone. not because you didn’t care, but because you didn;t see the point. it was just another day, another year passing by without fanfare. you honestly couldn’t remember the last time you celebrated, anyway. no birthday parties when you were younger, no birthday cards from family. nothing. so you never bothered anymore.

but as you approached your trailer, something caught your eye. there was a faint glow coming from the corner of the lot where the dixon brothers lived, and you could hear the low murmur of voices. curiosity piqued your interest and you made your way over, wondering what they were up to. as you rounded the corner, the sight stopped you in your tracks.

a bonfire was crackling, the flames licking up into the darkening sky. around it, there were a few mismatched chairs, a cooler, and some string lights that were lazily hung from daryl’s trailer, casting as soft glow over the area. daryl stood by the fire, poking at it with a stick, while merle sat on a lawn chair, leaning back with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

“well, look who decided to finally show up!” merle called out as soon as he spotted you, his voice loud and teasing. daryl glanced up from the fire, his expression more subtle but no less aware of your presence.

“what are you two doing?” you asked, stepping closer, your brow furrowed in confusion. it wasn’t unusual for merle to light up a bonfire randomly through the week and have a few beers, but the slight effort that was present in their set up threw you off. you had just left for work this morning like any other day, and now this?

daryl wiped his hands on his jeans and looked at you, his eyes darting away quickly like he was embarrassed. “heard it’s ya birthday,” he muttered, shuffling his feet a little. “figured we’d do somethin’.”

merle chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a beer in hand. “took ya long enough to get home. baby brother said ya’d be back by five. we been waitin’ all damn afternoon!”

you stared at them, completely taken aback. you hadn’t told anyone it was your birthday, and yet here they were, the two roughest boys you had ever met, putting together a surprise for you. your heart swelled at the thought, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what to say.

“you did this for me?” you asked, still trying to wrap your head around what was happening.

daryl shrugged, his eyes flickering to merle as if he was uncomfortable with the attention and wanted merle to take over. “ain’t much.”

merle let out a bark of laughter. “yeah, well, he didn’t do it alone. i helped.” he gestured towards the cooler. “we got drinks, and daryl here even made ya a cake.”

“a cake?” you couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it. daryl dixon, the gruff and silent man you had come to know, had baked you a cake?

daryl looked even more uncomfortable now, and you could see his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. oh, now he was blushing. you watched as he rubbed the back of his neck, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. “well, tried to. merle here ain’t much help.”

merle stood up with a mischievous grin, and waved you over to the small folding table they had set up near the fire. “c’mon, darlin’! take a look at this masterpiece.”

you followed, your curiosity getting the better of you— daryl had baked you a cake, so of course you wanted to see. and there it sat, in the middle of the table. the most chaotic looking cake you’d ever seen. the edges were burnt to a crisp, the middle sagged like it hadn’t fully risen, and the frosting was a mess– half melted, uneven, and smeared across the plate like it had been slapped on with no real plan.

daryl dixon had baked you a cake.

you covered your mouth to stifle the laugh that was threatening to escape. it was a disaster, but the fact that he even tried melted your heart.

“it’s… something,” you said, finally letting out a chuckle.

merle grinned and clapped daryl on the shoulder. “told ya she’d appreciate it.”

daryl shot him a glare before turning his attention back to you. his expression was softer now, his usual guarded demeanor cracked enough for you to see the effort he’d put into this. even if he was definitely no baker. “it ain’t that bad,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

you stepped closer to the cake, your chest warm with emotion. it wasn’t even about the cake at this point– it was the thought behind it. the fact that they had gone out of their way to make today feel special when you hadn’t expected anyone to notice.

“i love it,” you spoke sincerely, moving towards daryl so you could wrap your arms around him. you felt how stiff he was underneath your embrace, but he eventually softened, arms wrapping around your frame now. “thank you.”

he nodded his head once you both pulled from the embrace, his face relaxing a little. “glad you ain’t mad we made a mess,” he chuckled softly, his voice low.

“it’s not my kitchen i have to clean,” you teased, shaking your head, looking back at the cake.

merle, ever the one to break the mood, cracked open another beer and shoved one into your hand. “enough with the mushy, lovey dovey crap. let’s celebrate! yer gettin older, and that’s worth drinkin’ too!”

“everything’s worth drinking to with you, merle,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you accepted the beer. the three of you settled around the fire, the crackling of the flames filling the comfortable silence between conversations. merle kept the jokes coming, loud and brash as always, while daryl stayed quieter, content to sit besides you, occasionally chiming in with a dry comment directed towards his older brother that made you laugh.

as the night wore on and the fire burned low, you found yourself watching the flicker of the flames, feeling something you hadn’t in a long time— contentment. this wasn’t the kind of birthday you’d ever imagined, but it was exactly what you needed. simple, messy, but full of heart.

you glanced over at daryl, who was staring into the fire, his profile softened by the glow of the flames. there was something about him that always put you at ease, even when he wasn’t saying much. you had grown fond of his quiet presence, the way he showed care through actions rather than words, and tonight was no different.

“hey,” you said softly, catching his attention. he looked over at you, his eyes meeting yours. “thanks again. really.”

daryl shrugged, but there was a warmth in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “ain’t nothin’.”

but it was. to you, it was everything.

you didn’t need a big celebration or an extravagant party. you just needed this— two people who cared enough to sit with you by a fire, drink a few beers, and share a burnt cake. and for the first time in a long time, you felt like your birthday truly mattered.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl [8]

Part Eight | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Trigger warning for abusive behavior, Shane showing his true colors, Shane Walsh sucks

Word Count: 1.6K

Author’s Note: OKAY — apologies for the wait. I had a brief bought of hyperfixation on Logan Howlett and couldn't focus on anything other than X-Men since Deadpool and Wolverine came out. But now that the new season of Daryl Dixon is coming out, I am back in the fucking building. I still have a lot planned for this little fic, so let me know if you guys are still enjoying. This is very much a turning point in the story for the reader.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you set down one of the novels Dale had loaned you during one of your first days at the quarry camp. He just so happened to have overheard you complaining to Shane about not bringing anything to pass the time during the quiet hours at the end of the day when all chores and other responsibilities had been taken care of. Of course, Shane had brushed off your complaint — reminding you that you all had much bigger problems than your boredom. That was the first time since the world's end that you noticed his bitterness towards you and the first time you allowed yourself to believe that your feelings were insignificant, idiotic even, because of the word of Shane Walsh. That is until Dale appeared beside you at the campfire that night with a small stack of books from his RV — an act of kindness in an increasingly cruel world. 

You hoped that some light reading would distract you from everything — the dead rising, Shane’s constant negligence, Daryl’s sudden indifference. But, instead, you have the same sinking feeling in your gut that you woke up with. The very feeling that began last night after overhearing Daryl’s words to his brother. 

She don’t mean nothing to me. 

You shake your head at the memory and try to rid yourself of the look on Daryl’s face at the realization that you’d been listening last night — regret and sorrow mixing with the anger he felt towards his brother. A part of you felt sorry for him. And that part of you yearned to comfort him last night after he argued with his brother and wanted to apologize for eavesdropping. But the truth is, his words hurt you more than you care to admit because you have grown to care for the younger Dixon more than you care to admit. And that embarrasses you because wasn’t this hurt the very thing that Shane had warned you about when the brothers first joined the quarry camp?

Don’t go near those Dixons — they’re nothing but trouble. 

You sigh yet again before picking the book back up, but before you can return to reading, a strong pair of hands wrap around your shoulders. Shane. His touch should comfort you, but all you feel right now is anxiety as you wait for the other shoe to drop. In the few weeks you’ve been at the quarry camp, you’ve come to realize that Shane’s gentleness can turn to cruelty without warning — like the flip of a switch. His hands squeeze your shoulders tighter as they tense under his touch. 

“What’s on your mind?”

You shake your head at his question and turn to look at him. His features are surprisingly soft this morning and etched with concern as he studies your face. Your heart aches as he reminds you of the Shane who had begged Lori incessantly for your phone number. The Shane who brought you coffee during his patrols and wouldn’t shut up about you in the cruiser with Rick. The Shane who you had begun to fall in love with before the dead started walking the earth. You reach up and cover one of his hands with yours — the touch being your attempt at offering an olive branch after weeks of tension and hostility. 

“Nothing. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Shane hums softly while rubbing your shoulders. Against your better judgment, you lean into his touch. The two of you stay like this for a few minutes, silently enjoying each other’s company. Eventually, movement to your left catches your attention. You observe as Andrea helps T-Dog and Glenn prepare the van for today’s excursion. Glenn doubles over in laughter over something T-Dog said to Andrea, and there’s a sudden, deep pain in your chest as you watch T-Dog join in on the laughter and clap Glenn on the back of his shoulder — like someone plunged a knife into your heart and twisted. There’s a camaraderie forming among the members of the quarry camp — a camaraderie that you feel on the outskirts of.

“I heard about the run happening today, the one to Atlanta. I want to go with.”

Shane lets out a disappointed sigh, and your face drops at the sound. You thought maybe he'd be a little more lenient since he seems to be in a good mood today.

“I think they’ve got enough people. Adding another will probably only slow them down.”

Your brow furrows at Shane’s words as you feel your temper rising. Since the world ended, all Shane has done is underestimate you. You simply want the chance to prove yourself. You square your shoulders before responding. 

“I already talked to Glenn this morning — he said they could use another person out there.”

Shane’s hold on your shoulders tightens, and you clench your jaw due to the sudden pain. You take in a shaky breath, waiting for his response. 

“You should have talked to me first.”

His voice is ice cold, utterly devoid of the care and concern he’d shown you moments ago. The sound makes a shiver run down your spine. This isn’t your Shane. And you know that. You know you’ve been holding onto the idea of a man that you lost when the government dropped bombs on the entire city of Atlanta. And you know that you’ve been holding on so tight because you yearn to feel an ounce of normalcy. You’d been holding onto the hope that you’d wake up tomorrow to a cure and life would return to as it was before — this would just be something you’d reminisce about over coffee with Shane, Lori, and Rick years from now. But even with a cure, things can’t return to normal. Not after everything you’ve seen. Not after Shane’s shown you the cruelty he hides under the charm.

“I just want to contribute — pull my weight around here.”

The grip he has on your shoulders is unrelenting. A part of you thinks he wants his touch to leave behind a bruise — a reminder of this moment where he is in total control. A reminder of how small he can make you feel. 

“You can start by pulling your weight in camp. Lori needs help with the laundry.”

Your brow furrows at his words, and you grind your teeth together in frustration. You want to fight back, but the pain in your shoulders is becoming too much to bear. So, instead of talking back, you bite your tongue and silently nod at his words. You just hope he’ll let you go if you do what he says. Thankfully, Shane relents and backs away from you. You immediately stand from your chair, abandoning the novel on the table, as you waste no time putting distance between yourself and him. You can feel Shane’s eyes still on you as you walk away, but you don’t turn back. Instead, you keep moving until you find Lori. You collapse into the seat beside her with a heavy sigh. She looks up from the wash basin and meets your eyes.

“Bad day?”

“You could say that again. I heard you could use some help, though.”

A soft laugh escapes Lori’s lips as she slides a basket of dirty clothing your way. The familiar sound eases your nerves, and you realize you can let your guard down now. It’s just you and Lori sitting down by the quarry, and you know that she would never do anything to purposefully hurt you — not like Shane. 

“I can always use the help — the dirty laundry just never seems to end around here. And the company is always nice.”

You smile at her before grabbing the basket she slid your way. Your brow furrows as you notice a familiar pair of dark, tattered jeans. During the past few weeks with the younger Dixon, you’ve learned that Daryl never throws his clothes in the communal laundry baskets. Unlike his brother, he prefers to wash his clothes himself. You push your curiosity aside, resisting the urge to scan your surroundings yet again. You’ll never admit it, but despite your frustration towards Daryl, you’ve spent all morning hoping to see his familiar figure lingering around the outskirts of the camp. You swallow your disappointment and pick up the jeans. 

You check to ensure he’d left nothing in his pockets — remembering the all-out brawl that almost occurred when Merle discovered a soggy pack of cigarettes in his back pocket after Andrea had done the laundry. In your search, you find a folded piece of paper in one of his front pockets. Surprise washes over your features as you look down at the paper and see your name written in messy handwriting. You unfold the note, and your disappointment melt away as you read the words.

Gone out hunting. Won’t be back til tomorrow. Sorry for being an ass. Be careful. - D

Lori looks up from her wash basin and notices the note in your hands. She leans ever-so-slightly closer to you as she attempts to peek over your shoulder. 

“What is that?”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you realize just what this is — Daryl’s attempt at extending an olive branch. He is trying to make things right with you because, despite what he might have said to Merle last night, he cares. You haven’t misinterpreted his actions or become attached to a man who wants nothing to do with you. Quickly, you fold the paper back up and stuff it in your pocket.

“Just something that Daryl left in his pocket. Nothing special.”

But that’s a lie. The note would probably be insignificant to anyone else in the quarry camp. But to you, it means the world. Like Dale’s simple act of offering you a stack of books, it’s a reminder that though your world may be falling apart at your feet, there are still people who will show you kindness in an increasingly cruel world.

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[twigg96]

Strangers like me

Daryl X Reader, Merle & Reader, Dixon Brothers

Era: PreQuarry, Quarry, Woodburry, Prison

POV: Merle's on yours and Daryl's relationship

Pronouns: They/Them. You/ [Y/N]

Summary: When Daryl and Merle find you starving in one of the houses they raid, Merle is more than willing to leave you there to die. But Daryl jumps to your rescue. Feeding you and restoring you back to health. Merle is certain that once you're better you'd leave them alone... but instead you just seemed to stick around. And Daryl seemed to cling to you in this weird way he'd never seen his brother do with anyone else before... intrigued and a little worried for his brother's safety (though he'd never say it out loud) Merle starts to pay a little more attention to the relationship brewing between you and Daryl. That is until the Sheriff arrives and everything goes to hell in a hand basket.

From the very first day you met Daryl, found starving inside one of the many abandoned houses that Merle and he searched and raided before they settled down at the Quarry, you both had been connected at the hip. Merle had thought it strange at first. Just a cute little crush for his younger brother to entertain while the world went to shit around them. A cute crush that could potentially become quite the fucking problem if you ever got in the way of their survival. "C'mon baby bro..." Merle growled one particularly rainy day when he finally had a chance to get Daryl alone. "Don't cha see they're just usin' ya?" Merle drawled a snake like grin crossing his face as Daryl shot him an uncertain and self conscious glance. But as the little stow away stumbled through the thick brush, proudly holding up a long string of fish they must have noodled out of the nearby crick, Merle watched Daryls eyes gleam and pride radiate from his very body. "Usin' me huh?" Daryl teased walking over to you, helping you wipe the mud and grime from your face in the most gentle way his brother had ever seen.

As the shit hit the fan and the largest herd of walkers the group of three had yet to see approached from seemingly all sides, Merle was certain you were going to die. That you'd be too slow to keep up. That you'd loose your balance or your weak ankles would give out. What worried Merle most was that if you did happen to trip, happen to get hurt. His moron of a brother would risk his own life again to save you. But you were faster than he expected you would be and even though you had complained before of your weak ankles swelling, a part of you Daryl had no problem touching and massaging on a normal day. Another mystery to the eldest Dixon. You seemed to be Leading the charge far in front of both men, pointing and leading them through the woods. Only for a moment did Merle think to be suspicious of your sudden athletic prowess. But it was only for a moment before you reached out and pulled Merle back from tripping over the root of a tree that would have sent him to his death over the edge of a nearby cliff. Feeling the warm squeeze of your hand in his Merle realized that even after you had safely navigated him away from the ledge you were still holding tight to his wrist, a worried look to your face and hot tears staining your cheeks. "Y-you gotta keep up old man!" You finally called back, stifling a sob he knew would have wracked you and slowed you down... Well damn. Merle followed you into a well abandonded cabin deep in the woods, one that he could tell just by lookin at it was a distillery at one point in it's life. Shoving what little furniture the cabin had up against the windows and doors the trio waited with baited breath as the herd pushed past, begging that none of them would tear through the thin walls in the night while you rested.

"Alrigh'..." Merle grumbled tossing his pack in the corner, glaring at the way his brother was doting on you, letting you lean on him for support to catch your breath. Your hand rested softly on his chest and if Merle had been a dumb man, which he fuckin wasn't. He would have missed the way you intertwined your fingers with Daryl's other hand. "Tell me." Merle growled sitting across from the two who seemingly scrambled to get away from one another in order to avoid getting caught. "Don't know wha-" Daryl tried to bullshit him but Merle could see right through his brother. "Ah! Don't try that shit." Merle growled growing more and more agitated by the minute. Agitated that the two of them thought they could just sneak around him with out him finding out. Agitated that his brother thought he was some kinda fool and couldn't figure it out on his own. But, most of all, agitated that Daryl hadn't trusted him with the truth earlier. "How long have ya known each other?" Merle hissed, gesturing between the two blushing kids. And god they really did look like kids to him now. Despite being covered in mud, walker bits and blood, they both looked so... damned young. "Well..." Merle huffed when he received nothing but silence from either his brother or you in return. "I already told ya." Daryl tried to lie once more, not daring to meet his eyes. "We just met the other day... you were there." You nodded your head a little too enthusiastically to try and convince Merle... something that didn't sit right with the older Dixon. "Bull shit." Merle huffed shaking his head. "There's somethin' more goin' on between you two..." Merle muttered jabbing a finger at his brother's chest then yours. "You two have been all buddy buddy since we picked the runt up." Merle stated watching carefully as you seemed to pull away from the crassness of his voice and Daryl... well if Daryl realized he was doing it Merle had no idea but he had shifted his body slightly to place himself between his brother and you, a deep scowl plastered on his face. "Don't you dare call them names... they just saved yer hide." Daryl hissed defensively. And there it was. Love. Merle sighed shaking his head a small smirk gracing his lips. But, who was he to make them realize what it was called before either of them said it out loud? Instead Merle slapped his knee. "Ah... shit. Thought I recognized 'em from before... must just be tired." Merle sighed, standing with a low groan to go set up his corner of the cabin.

After that long night, Merle kept a closer eye on you two from the shadows. He didn't distrust you as much anymore you were always quick to have not only Daryl’s back but his own and Merle warmed up to you coming to see you as more of a family member and less as of a threat. But that didn't mean that you got to just do whatever you wanted to his little brother in the middle of the apocalypse without someone watching your dumbass backs. Most of the time what Merle observed was tame. A small brush of the hands while you two walked further ahead than him. A bump of the shoulders while they were sitting alone by the fire. When they finally arrived at the Quarry, the three of them kept mostly to themselves finding the small group's leader that took them in suffocating and a hard ass. Shane, the wannabe jughead, was insufferable on a good day. He harassed you on a near constant basis when his own makeshift piece of ass wasn't around to keep him on his toes. "What're ya doing hanging around these fuckin' hicks?" He asked you one day while you were busy skinning the rabbits you had caught. A glare was all you graced him with before he plopped down on the log beside you. "There's more than enough room for you to bunk down next to us ya know... next to me." The perverted ex-cop cooed leaning closer to you. But, much to Merle's glee and entertainment, you looked completely appalled and disinterested. Flipping the man off you shoved the bloody skinned rabbit into his arms. "There... dinner for the young ones." You growled, walking down to the water's edge to wash off.

But, the bastard didn't give up easily. Even once the others in the camp had started to put two and two together that you might... maybe... possibly be in an intimate relationship with the youngest of the Dixon boys and were officially off limits Shane persisted. Merle watched you carefully on the days that the two lovebirds at the camp drank too much and tore into each other. It happened more often than Merle ever felt comfortable with and always ended with a very drunken Shane attempting to shove a wedge into whatever relationship was forming between you and Daryl. But Merle knew his baby brother... his self confidence was in the gutter. And so when another young buck entered his territory, Daryl tended to run and hide or duck his head. "Tell me something." Shane slurred one night, nearly sitting on Daryl's lap in order to slide between you and him. If you hadn't begged Merle to leave well enough alone earlier in the day when the arguing startled the deer the three of you had been hunting all day, he might have put the man out of his misery then and there. "Why do you go out and do all this men's work?" Shane asked drunkenly slurring his words, waving around his half empty beer bottle towards your bow and Daryl's crossbow. "You'd be much better off if you just stayed here with the women and... ya know did women work." Merle had stifle the laugh that bubbled up in his throat watching the way your face morphed from confused disgust to pure astonished hatred. "Ex-fucking-scuse me?!" You hissed. And lordy above if looks could kill Shane would have been fuckin' toast. If not only from the searing glare you sent his way but the absolute daggers Daryl was piercing into the back of Shane's skull at the sheer audacity this man had. But... it seemed that on this night Shane just wanted to test his luck with you. "Yeah... I mean." Shane grabbed your wrist flipping your hand over to look at the palm of your hand. "No one as beautiful as you deserves to have calluses this thick. Besides... you're too delicate for anything more than washing clothes." Oh yeah... that did it. Merle chuckled as you stood and brought the very hand Shane had been holding across his face. "Don't you ever touch me you prick!" You hissed. But something about the way Shane's demeanor didn't set right with Merle... He was too still. He just stared off into space. A look Merle was far too familiar with having served in the military and time in prison. It was a dangerous distant look. But before Shane could act on whatever was brewing in his mind, you stormed off into darkness of the woods, Daryl hot on your tail.

The argument that followed could be heard for a good half mile. "I said leave me the hell alone Daryl!" Merle heard you yell, frustrated and sobbing from within the trees. Merle heard his brother mutter something vaguely sad and soft. It was your first real fight so if he had to guess Daryl was asking what was wrong, or what he could do to help... the poor bastard. "You think they'll be ok?" Dale, the group's resident crazy elderly man asked Merle softly. The older Dixon shrugged, pulling the flashlight from his backpack with an annoyed sigh. "It's not [Y/N] I'm worried about." He muttered lowly, standing with a pained groan. "Fine you wanna talk so bad let's fuckin' talk!" Your scream could be heard all across the Quarry and Merle knew... Daryl was in fuckin' trouble. "I better go get his dumb ass before they kill each other." Merle sighed rolling his eyes. Merle tracked his brother and wannabe in-law down and reminding them that the walkers still existed and were dangerous even when they were pissed off at each other. You insisted that maybe... you should just sleep in Dale's RV for a while. With that said and tears rolling down your cheeks you stormed off back towards the camp. Merle watched you go for a moment before turning to his brother who for all intents and purposes was completely distraught. Daryl paced back and forth growling nonsense, punching the bark off of tree trunks, and grasping at the short hair on his head. "What the fuck?!" Daryl whined, kicking a dead tree down. Merle would have quipped back with something nasty and hurtful. He certainly wanted to... But he figured that maybe this time he should just keep his fuckin' trap shut and try listening this time. "They told me they needed space... so I walked a little slower to give 'em space. They got pissed when I asked what I asked what I could do then told me I didn't do shit so why even ask that. And now they want to sleep in the camper with Dale?!" Daryl growled huffing and plopping down the freshly made tree stump. Merle couldn't help but to laugh at his little brother rolling his eyes at Daryl's nonissue. "Wha' you fuckin' laughing at?!" Daryl hissed standing to get in Merle's face. "Got two bits of advice fer ya little brother." Merle murmured, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. "First... don't ever talk ta yer partner when they tell ya to fuck off. No matter how mad they are or what started it. Just let them be mad fer a bit..." Daryl stared at Merle like he grew a second head. "But I was jus' worried about walkers." Daryl muttered, shuffling his feet. Merle rolled his eyes. "That's the second tip little brother... grow a pair of balls." Merle teased, grabbing his own crotch for emphasis. "You say to me you were just worried about walkers but that's bull shit... you were trying to smooth things over because you know you fucked up by letting Deputy Dickface harass and touch your partner whenever he feels like it... that's why they want to sleep in Dale's camper. Not because their especially pissed at you little bro... but you won't do anything to Shane so they don't feel safe if he were to try something." Daryl flapped his gums for a moment but Merle was already headed back to camp. "Just something to chew on little bro..."

Over the next few days Merle watched you and Daryl slowly make up in the solace of the woods. If he actually gave a shit he'd say it was cute... Daryl did his very best for you. He gave you a portion of his meal every time you all ate despite your protests. He taught you how to cock and shoot his cross bow properly. Merle thought it was cute funny that you tried your damnedest to ignore the way Daryl's body pressed into your back, his left hand pressed to your tummy, explaining that if you took deep enough breaths through your stomach your aim would be less shaky. He almosted missed the way that his little brother's right hand was so gently caressing you to help you position your arms closer to your body and that his breath was tickling the back of your neck as he almost whispered the encouragement into your ear as you pulled the trigger and shot your first deer with the new weapon. But the crushing hug he gave you afterwards, the little twirl and small, “You fuckin’ did it sunshine!” That. That was not a memory neither you or Merle were willing to ignore or push away any time soon. Even though he'd never say it out loud, Merle was damned proud of the his little brother. Especially the next time Deputy Dog came sniffing around. Daryl was by your side in an instant despite having been at the other side of the camp when the ex-cop first approached you. "Heard you were takin' a break from the hicks fer a while..." Shane hummed moving his hand to brush back a piece of your hair that had fallen into your face. "The only thing they'll be breakin' is yer nose if ya don't leave them alone." Daryl growled, walking around the two of you to take your waist, pulling you close to him. Unbeknownst to you at the time. You were teaching the youngest Dixon as well. You taught him the patience to listen even when all he wanted to do was run off in a confused huff or get moody. Merle watched on a little amused as you taught Daryl to fish using only your hand, a gleam of desire shining in his little brother's eyes as he watched you rolling around in the mud bear wrestling a giant catfish to land. You taught Daryl compassion. Something that some what weirded Merle out as the two of you approached Dale and Glenn one day offering to help out at the camper.

The worst day of Merle's life thus far came the day the Sheriff arrived. He was certain that as he sat handcuffed on the roof he was going to die. Even as he sawed his own hand from his arm he was sure he was going to die. But the one thought in his mind remained the same. He had to live to make it to see his little brother again. Even if it were just a glimpse. Even if he just got to know he was ok. Days of mending his wounded stump within the confines of Atlanta turned into weeks of wondering the backroads of Gorgia as he finally made his way back to their campsite. Eating and sleeping from dumpster to dumpster became a regular occurrence and then a necessity as Merle crashed hard detoxing from his array of vices he kept in his bike's side satchel. When Merle finally made it to the campsite, only to find rows and rows of mass graves burried there, the cars, his bike, and the camper gone. Merle had never known that level of loss in his life. Not even in the midst of war did Merle feel so much pain, digging on his knees with his only good hand into the shallow graves praying for the first time in his life that he wouldn't find the faces of his little brother or his brother's lover. But when they all came up as members of their makeshift community, people he hardly knew due to his isolation, Merle wept for the first time in a long time.

Years passed. Merle was "saved" from a life off drifting by the Governor. The Governor's men had found him, starving, nearly waisted away along the side of the road one evening. They had originally tried to kill him, seeing him as a parasite within the bounds of their territory. But time after time, group after group, Merle beat them. He was either able to evade them into the shadows and tight spaces of some abandoned building, going deep withing the walker infested parts of the cities the scouts weren't willing to go. Or he killed each and every one of the bastards that cornered him. But eventually... Merle grew tired and relented. The life he knew in Woodbury was not lavish nor grand by any sense of the word. Merle was a lacky used for his strength and military training... he was used to entertain the residents of Woodbury and keep the other lackies and prisoners in check. It was his job and for a while at least... he was good at it. Why wouldn't he be? It kept food in his belly and enough booze in his system to keep him numb to the horrific things he had to do to keep his position. But to say Merle was simply taking what was given to him was a drastic understatement. No... He may have been a hard headed moron on a good day, but Merle had a plan. One that involved taking the governor down and taking him for all he was worth in the process. Unfortunately for him, he tended to run his big mouth when he was drunk. A habit he was warned would kill him one day... But, Merle wasn't in the business of listening to his little brother's dumb advice especially when he was certain he was dead. Had to be after all the time that had passed between them. So instead when he missed him... he talked about him to the only people who listened... the governor and his lackies.

When Merle found the little Korean squirt loading up baby supplies into that car, he nearly shit himself. If that twerp was still alive, you and Daryl had to be... right? He knew it was impulsive. He knew the target was the samurai. But if he lost track of the twerp now... he could loose you and Daryl forever and that just wasn't a risk Merle was willing to take. He lied to the governor told him he killed the samurai but everything was lost in the blast... a bold lie for sure but a strong one when he held a single lock of hair. The governor seemingly believed him for the mean time and even offered to help interview the girl. An offer Merle should have known better than to accept. But emotions were already high and his judgement had been clouded. However... Merle did not expect Glenn to have such a steel trap. The boy took blow after blow, ribs cracking, nose breaking, blood spilling all in the name of protecting the ones he loved and cherished. Merle tried like Hell to get him to understand. "I just need ta know where Daryl and his partner are... I'll let ya and yer lady friend go if ya just tell me already!" Merle growled finally pushed to the breaking point when Glenn spit all over him. Of course Merle knew he went too far after he threw the walker into the room with Glenn. He was just so confused and frustrated that Glenn was so loyal... Maybe the girl would be easier to break. But what he found in her cell, the governor standing behind her half naked frame with her pinned to the table sent him from frustrated to furious in an instant. If it weren't for the nagging part of his brain reminding him there was something he truly needed at the end of all of this... Merle might have gone rouge then and there. "Hey..." Merle finally got out, straining his voice to hide any emotion. "They... They need ya up top." Merle lied. This time not caring about the repercussions of this particular lie. Merle waited outside watching as the governor passed him by before walking into the room they kept Glenn in. The boy was bloodied, bruised and beaten. He had broken the wooden chair he was taped to in order to kill the walker but by god he survived. Maybe the punk had more moxie than Merle gave him credit for... Without giving the kid a chance to run, Merle grabbed him by the arm, escorting him into the next room where his girl sat covering herself. A wave of hot shame and posionous guilt washed over Merle as he shoved Glenn into the room. His only thought being... What if someone somewhere was doing this to you and Daryl... If he was willing to go this far... how far would someone else go? Tossing his vest at Glenn's girl he looked away, hoping that maybe if he was lucky he'd see his little brother again one day.

When the shooting started and the alarm was raised that prisoners were loose in the city of Woodbury, Merle knew Glenn's people had come to save them. Despite the impressive show he made of firing into the smoke, Merle did his best to miss the figures that crept and ran around. If you or Daryl were in fact amongst one of the few to be there, the last thing he wanted to do was accidently hit either of you. Instead his aim was at the Woodbury residents who dared aim a gun at the fleeing trespassers. God did he pay for it once everything calmed down... the Governor's daughter a walker he kept trapped and locked away was slaughtered during the fight and the Governor wanted blood. Placing Merle in the middle of the fighting ring, a position he wasn't unfamiliar with by this point in his career and life, Merle mentally and physically prepared himself. He expected the Walkers to be released on him. He expected to be whipped and possibly publicly shamed. What he didn't expect... was Daryl. His baby brother chained, beaten, battered, bruised, and whipped being drug into the arena with him. Worse than that, the very second he moved to step towards him, the Governor issued the very rules Merle prayed wouldn't be said in the arena. "To the death..." And so Merle did as ordered. He fought like it was his last breath. Using the governor's waning trust in him, Merle took the first blow sending an unsuspecting Daryl stumbling back. "Merle please." The words killed him as Merle stood over Daryl. But the eldest Dixon had a plan... he always did. Before he knew it snipers from the buildings above were firing down on the walkers and crowd making room for the rush of the crowd that rushed in, slaughtering whoever they had too to free Daryl.

Merle followed the group out, whether they wanted them too or not, Daryl refused to let them touch him. Despite it all Daryl was still loyal to his brother. But the group felt differently... and why wouldn't they? Merle knew he had done unspeakable acts against them... but he didn't ask to have them shoved in his face every two seconds. When enough was enough he and Daryl stormed off. Something they were good at. "Come on baby brother, your better off without them." Merle muttered, trying his damnedest to cheer his little brother up. But it all ended up just blowing up in his face... "We gotta go back to the prison. I need to go back..." Daryl muttered, more like a chant as he lead them deeper into the woods. "The prison? Why the hell do ya wanna go back there?" Merle asked, struggling to keep up with Daryl's determined stride. "Loyalty. Don't know if ya know anythin' about it... and I gotta... They need me." Daryl growled, glaring at his older brother as they ducked under branches. "I know more about loyalty than you ever will!" Merle had yelled. "Maybe you would if you had been there once fer me!" Daryl had screamed back. Merle huffed shaking his head. "Bull shit little brother. This ain't about loyalty. This is about somethin' else..." Merle mumbled trying to read the expression on his brother's face. "Whatever... this was a bad fuckin' idea." Daryl growled. Merle grabbed the back of Daryl's shirt when he tried to walk back to the road without him a familiar feeling of fear and abandonment washing over him as he did. The scars on Daryl's back were horrendous. And Merle knew exactly where they came from. "I-I'm so sorry... I-I never knew..." Merle tried to explain but Daryl was having none of it. "No... You did it's why you left... but it never stopped when you did." Merle couldn't help the pained laugh that escaped his lips. Daryl wasn't wrong. He was reading him like a book... when did he learn to do that? The two walked in silence for a while. Daryl tried like hell to get Merle to come back to the prison with him. But Merle knew deep down he never could. The people there would kill him. It was simple. When the baby's wail pierced the air and Daryl looked panicked, jumping into action without a moments hesitation. Something clicked. "They still alive?" Merle asked after Daryl finally handed the tiny baby back to it's family with a pained look to his face. "Huh? Yeah... Wha' cha mean by that?" Daryl asked, gesturing to the whimpering newborn wriggling in it's mother's arms as they all ran down the highway. "Not the baby, Daryl." Merle sighed. Daryl cocked a confused brow and craned his head. "[Y/N]? Yeah... They're still alive." Daryl huffed when he finally caught on to what Merle was asking. Pushing past his older brother Merle sighed. "You tell them yet?" Merle muttered, following Daryl off of the bridge. "Tell them what?" Daryl asked rolling his eyes at his brother's sudden interest in playing twenty questions. "That ya love 'em." Merle murmured. Watching as Daryl slowed to a stop, Merle hoped for a small second that his little brother would tell him off and send him packing. But instead for the first time since they reunited, Daryl looked like what he remembered him to be. Timid. Shy. And a little embarrassed. But still, the little shit nodded. "Ya want ta come see them?" Daryl asked softly, gesturing with his head in the direction he wanted to go. "They miss ya somethin' fierce."

Before this point... Merle had believed anxiety to be a myth. Something people made up to whine about or get out of work. But as he marched his way to the prison gates with Daryl by his side, Merle suddenly felt very small. It was a good thing that he had something to do when they first arrived... kill all the walkers they could to get in... but once they were done and the dust had settled, Merle was very aware of how many eyes were staring him down. Whispers of "What is he doing here?" and "Why did Daryl bring him back?" resonated deep within his soul. But one voice stood out above the rest. "Daryl?!" Your voice and the sound of your approaching footsteps as you sprinted to find him echoed from inside the prison walls. As you stepped into the greens of the courtyard Merle stood stalk still completely stunned. You looked stunning, your hair grown longer, your skin a little tanner than he remembered, and most shockingly of all... a little tike rested on your hip. The toddler clung to your shirt and buried into your heaving collar bone as you fought to catch your breath. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you ran to Daryl, who met you without hesitation halfway into the courtyard. "W-When you didn't come back-" You sobbed kissing Daryl's jaw before burying your face in the crook of his neck. "It's ok... I just had to take a little detour." Daryl whispered taking the little one from you and kissing their face, blowing raspberries on their cheek for good measure. The tike giggle and squealed in Daryl's arms pushing his head away from their own. "Daddy stop!" They squealed. Daddy? Merle blinked rubbing his eyes with his good hand. He didn't think he was gone that long... "Merle?" Your voice called out as he looked back up at his little, growing, family. "The one and only." Merle gleamed grinning from ear to ear as you wrapped your arms around his middle. "I'm so happy you're ok..." Your tone was happy and soft but turned as dark and piercing as the glare you shot up at Merle. "Merle Dixon... you know I respect you as Daryl's brother... and you know that I owe you and your brother my life... but, you really hurt Daryl with the actions you took in your past... now you have a chance to make them right. If you don't... or if you ever hurt Daryl with another dumbass mistake that makes you get lost or separated from us again. Know I'm going to be personally searching for you to beat your ass until you apologize." Merle tried to take you seriously... he really did. But as your voice grew thick and the tears from earlier began to flow Merle just couldn't find it in himself to even attempt to look scared of you. Instead the eldest Dixon pulled you close letting you rest your head against his chest to sob. "You idiot... You absolute fucking idiot." You sobbed.

Late that night Merle stared up at the stars from the sanctuary of the prison grounds. The groans of the dean did nothing to bother him much any more. The sound of approaching footsteps however put him on edge and forced him to turn to face his potential attackers. But, it was just Daryl, coming to sit beside him in the wet grass of the night. "Hey." Daryl muttered. "Hey..." Merle whispered back looking back at the door to see if you had followed him out. "[Y/N] not coming out?" He asked softly. Daryl chuckled and shook his head. "Nah... she just got Sapphire down for the night." Daryl murmured, rolling his eyes with a laugh as he caught his brother's judgmental stare. "Look we didn't name 'er that... She knew 'er name when we found 'er and we couldn't bare to change it when it was the last thing she had of her real parents." Daryl said softly. Merle hummed in recognition. "Ya got a cute kid..." Daryl nodded, rubbing his arm. "Thanks. Try ta do right by her, ya know..." Daryl muttered and Merle completely understood because he always had and always would try and do right by his family... Even if it killed him.

[virtual-systems-analysis]

thinking about how when daryl thought merle died, he hardly let himself cry. he hardly let himself be sad. he cried for a few minutes, then immediately resorted to anger, holding his crossbow up at t-dog.

also thinking about when daryl found out merle actually did die, he let himself cry. he let himself be sad.

idk just. i thought this was so interesting. to me. like character development. idk lolzorz.

[yanxidarlings]

YANDERE TWD

REUNITED (yandere! big brother! merle dixon x male reader x yandere! big brother daryl dixon) (yandere! gareth x male reader) (rick grimes x male reader if you squint) NOTES: fair warning, this is some descriptive disturbing shit merle dixon counts as a warning on his own as well. this went in many directions i originally set out for yandere headcanons for the two, then got into the terminus arc, and ended with some pretty vague alluding to yandere. might write a part two)

imagine obsessive! possessive! big brothers! merle and daryl dixon. the dead begin to walk and they keep the darlin safe, meeting up with the atlanta camp. but the brothers won't let anyone get close to the darlin, not dale, not carl, certainly not shane or lori.

somehow, the darlin ends up going with glenn into the city on a supply run, only for it to go horribly wrong. the darlin insisted they head into a chemist to "look for medications" in case anyone in the camp needed them. but it was a lie. the darlin just wanted to find something to help merle with the inevitable withdrawal he'd go through once his supply of drugs ran out. the chemist is overrun by walkers but the darlin insists. "we can clear it!" they say to glenn "it'll be worth it for m- everyone" the korean gave the other a skeptical look. in the end, there was just too many, glenn thought he saw the darlin go down and reluctantly returned to camp.

"oi! shitface, you think you're a big boy now? can do whatever you want now everything's gon' to shit!" the raspy, harsh voice of merle dixon echoed through the camp. the redneck tramped over to the SUV glenn was parking. he remained silent as he turned the engine off. taking a deep breath, the young man exited the car, staring at the grass.

the older dixon stormed over, aggressively opening every door of the vehicle until he reached the boot. filled with supplies. "where the fuck is m/n" he growled, coming closer to the asian "he better be pullin up in another car" merle spat out. "i- it was" glenn stuttered out, looking like he was about to piss his pants "it wasn't my fault, m/n was being reckless, i had no cho-" CRACK glenn's face was soon bloodied and bruised, merle now on top of him, yelling out profanities as he beat the younger man. "merle!" the others quickly ran to pull the redneck off glenn.

"you fucking ch*ng-ch*ng bastard i'll rip-" merle was pried off glenn, who was now rolling around in agony, his face a bloody mess. "what the fuck happen'd" merle rasped out, although to glenn it sounded like a croak "where is he" merle was still being held back by t-dog and shane as he continued yelling. glenn avoided the rednecks furious gaze "the walkers got him" he finally spoke, looking down.

for a moment it looked like merle was about to cry, for a moment merle himself thought he was going to burst into tears like a sissy. "no he ain't" but instead he picked up his shotgun, and got into the drivers seat of the SUV.

that was how andrea, t-dog, jackie, glenn and morales ended up in the city. that was how merle got handcuffed to a roof by "officer friendly" and that was why daryl yelled in agony on that same roof. in the course of a day, he had lost the two most important people in his life.

but merle had survived by cutting off his left hand, and the darlin had survived by covering himself in walker guts.

"china- no- glenn- don't- help!" the h/c-et screamed, the sound of his own gun firing defeaning his ears. as one went down, another lunged at him, rotten teeth clanking together, desperately trying to knaw into his flesh. but he wouldn't die here. he couldn't. not when merle was 'relying' on him to get drugs. maybe then, the dixons would start to treat him as less of a clueless child and more of an equal.

after taking down a few, m/n jumped behind the counter, rummaging through the medications, looking for anything that might help with the withdrawal, or better, give merle his next fix. more of the dead came at him, but he just kept shooting, stabbing, hitting, anything to cause the fatal damage needed to end the dead's miserable 'life'.

BANG one was down BANG another BANG BANG BANG .. the slide didn't move forward as he shot his way through another round. shit. he was out of ammo "glenn!" he yelled out as a walker fell on top of him, wrestling it's way closer to his skin. all the korean could hear was m/n's screaming. which only attracted more walkers. he saw the medicine that m/n had thrown over the counter before going down, stuffing it into his bag, he creeped up closer to the group of walkers that had acculumated, following the sound of m/n's scream. until it stopped. "m/n?" he uttered under his breath, but the pile of walkers on top of each other told him the other was dead. with tears in his eyes, glenn ran out.

m/n struggled against the strength of the walker. it was freshly turned, he could tell. otherwise it wouldn't be so strong. kicking, punching, reaching for his knife, anything to save himself from becoming one of them. plunging his blade into the side of the walkers head, he quickly slit the once-man's throat. covering his face in the blood. before moving down to the abdomen. cutting it open, letting the walkers rotting insides pour out all over him, the ones that had piled on top soon couldn't distinguish the smell of living flesh from rotting blood.

he went silent, breathing shallowly, hoping, praying, they'd move off him and he could silently slip out. but when he was finally free of the chemist, glenn, the supplies they had gathered, and the SUV were gone.

he walked the dead-ridden streets of the once bustling city, covered in blood, hidden in plain sight. he kept walking (which then turned into a limp after getting hit in the ankle by a flying bullet) becoming weaker with each step, hoping to make his way back to camp. only to come to the end of the trainline leading into suburban atlanta. TERMINUS the building read "those who arrive survive" he heard a feminine voice call out from the speakers. maybe they have gauze. he glanced down at his leg, the sleeve of his shirt he had tied around it now dyed red.

"community for all; sanctuary for all" he saw a young man- perhaps just a little older than m/n was, staring down at him from the window. something felt amiss, off, but m/n had lost so much blood he didn't care. he stumbled towards the train station, stopping and starting as he debated his decision.

daryl, merle.. they'll be wondering he thought to himself, stopping for the 5th time, but i won't make it back he began walking again but they'll be looking for me he stopped, nearly tripping but the sudden lack of motion if i found this place they'll find it too he picked up the pace again, frantically moving towards the gates but- as he stopped himself once more, he finally tripped over. right onto the walker trap the train people had set up. his left ribcage was pierced by the sharp metal pole sticking out of the ground, causing the h/c-et to let out a loud screech.

before he knew it people had come out, the same man that had stared at him through the window moments earlier put his hand on the wound, causing m/n to flinch "we're you trying to get yourself killed?" the man mused, seemingly unphased by the active bleeding out that was happening in front of him. the man spoke more words that were muffled as m/n fell out of consciousness.

it was pitch black when he opened his eyes. not a shred of light to allude to the location. pitch black. m/n's hands brushed her his torso, feeling the gauze that was tightly wrapped around his chest. it all came back to him. the chemist, the walkers, glenn, the train people. he shifted his arms, feeling the thin material he was lated on, and the cold metal it covered. attempting to hoist himself up, pain shot through his body.

letting out a groan, he laid back down, closing his eyes. is this death. it certainly felt like it. the nothingness, the pain, it was all he had ever imagined death to be like. what felt like hours passed, the nothingness was almost comforting, how long had it been since he could lay like this and do nothing with no worries. it was all ended when the creaking of the door signaled to m/n that he was not in-fact dead.

the sudden brightness was blinding "you awake?" a masculine voice spoke. m/n's eyes began burning from the light, "i guess" he replied quietly, his eyes closing. "good" the male put down a plate next to where m/n laid "eat up. i know this isn't the warmest welcome, i would have liked to show you around first" the man chuckled, leaning down, seemingly to get a good look at m/n.

the man- who introduced himself as gareth, began speaking about the community- terminus. that they did whatever they had to for survival, that m/n would have to prove himself loyal if he wanted to become apart of the community. he wasn't sure how to tell this gareth guy that he was leaving as soon as possible to find his group.

the discussion started off normal as m/n finished his food, until gareth started talking about how lonely he was, as the leader of this terminus community. it only got creepier as gareth started to call m/n pretty boy, edging closer to him. m/n doesn't want to know what would have happened if that middld aged lady (gareth's mother), hadn't called the man away.

it quickly became evident to m/n that he was never going to leave. gareth locked him in the pitch black train car for hours on end, opening the door when there were armed men to prevent m/n from trying anything. gareth would sit with him and talk, running his hands over the male's body, stealing kisses, it was a reprehensive routine m/n had become forcibly accustomed to.

it all changed the day the hunters attacked. m/n was in his train car, as usual, listening to the outside screams, wondering if the attackers were dead or alive. he knew they were alive when one pried open the train car door, and threw them self on him. he was then thrown into a cramped train car with other terminus residents, where the hunters hand picked who to assault and slaughter each day. he and gareth spent their days huddled up together, talking about their lives before. had m/n not accepted the hunters offer to leave the train car if he worked for them, gareth wouldn't have lost his mind. but m/n was desperate to get away. from the train car. from terminus. to find his family.

but the hunters caught him trying to leave. they did their absolute worst to him and then threw him back in. when the termites took back terminus, gareth locked the leader of the hunters and m/n into the same train car. "this is what you deserve" he told him, before locking the door shut.

perhaps it was years, perhaps it was months, maybe it was only a few hours. the horrors of the train car began to unfold, as the man who had once led the attack on terminus lost his mind: pouncing on m/n at random, screaming for hours straight, trying to eat m/n alive when they'd be deprived of food, ripping his ear off in hungered insanity. as m/n laid there bleeding from his ear, he decided either i escape or i die. had running worked before? no. was he willing to die trying? not really, but a man would do anything for freedom, and that's what m/n did.

the hunter had fallen asleep, a fatal mistake, as m/n wrapped his hands around the mans unshaven neck and squeezed. within second the man awoke but m/n was relentless, not letting go until the other went limp. i just have to wait now he cried to himself, hands shaking. calming, he began to strip the man of his clothes and use the fabric to restrain his limbs.

waiting for the termites to open the door with the meal made of human flesh felt like an eternity. the familiar sound of metal scratching and creaking filled m/n's ear, who quickly sprung into action.

grabbing the reanimated hunter by the hair, he guided it in the direction of the door, throwing it towards the woman holding their plates. she screeched as the hunters corpse sank it's teeth into her flesh, blood pouring from the wound.

m/n grabbed the woman's gun and bolted as the nearby workers aimed their guns at the walker, taking it down swiftly, but m/n had already gotten out of the train car. hiding behind what once was his cage, he shot at every person who came into view. eventually making his way to the fence, through the woods, he didn't stop running until the sound of gunshots stopped entirely. even then, he kept running. he ran for what felt like hours until his lungs couldn't take it anymore. collapsing onto the dirt, heaving in and out.

woodbury had fallen, it's entire population now living in the prison nearby. rick had relinquished his leadership, insisting the prison be governed by a council. he often went on runs by himself, to get away from it all, to look back on his actions, to find lost survivors. it wasn't everyday rick grimes came across a twenty something perhaps younger male covered in blood, breathing like he had never tasted air before. well, usually the young men were walkers. but this one was very much alive.

"please don't" the male groaned out, eyes wide, as rick approached with a knife. "who are you" he drawled out, kneeling down to get a good look at the other. the young males face was bruised, his hair covered in blood, an ear was missing, and the male was emaciated. "uh" the male seemed to have to think about it, as if he hadn't spoken to another human in years "m/n" he finally puffed out, bringing his hand up to his head, where the left ear once was.

rick's hands brushed m/n hair out of his face, causing the male to flinch away "how many walkers have you killed" the older man finally asked after several moments of silence. m/n just stared at him, as if to say he hadn't been keeping track "how many people have you killed" still, the same look. "water" "what" rick narrowed his eyes. m/n used his free hand to shakily point to the man's bag, where a bottle of water was latched on to the side.

rick was silent as m/n chugged the water down "do you have anything sweet?" "no i don't" "oh" something about the boy felt familiar. didn't glenn mention originally going into atlanta to find a boy with a similar description? maybe it was just that the male reminded him of his own boy in a way, or maybe he had already developed a fondness for m/n. "i have a camp" rick looked m/n in the eye "we have walls, food, a community, a doctor that can look at your wound" he added.

the h/c-et shook his head "not again" rick furrowed his brows "what" the boy started to pick himself up "i gotta, um" he started feeling around the ground for his gun, "gotta go" he finished as he felt the handle of the gun. stuffing the weapon into his belt, he stood up, using a tree as a crutch. "c'mon kid, you're going to die out here" rick leaned forward and took the gun out of the others hand "no im not! give it!" m/n lunged forward, only to awkwardly fall into rick's chest, sinking down back to the ground.

"you've got two bullets left" m/n looked up at rick with a glare "either you come back to my camp with me or i just wasted my water on a dead man" m/n held his glare until the sun got into his eyes. "whatever" he looked down, hoisting himself back to his feet with the help of rick's hand.

daryl squinted his eyes as the evening sun glared down, merle had stolen his motorcycle. again. the older dixon was always going off on fun runs without informing anyone beforehand. perhaps because the redneck had never really been accepted into the group like daryl was.

taking another bite of his pork chop, daryl grunted at carol who told him to go in and get some rest. but why would he want to rest when all he could think of when his mind was unoccupied was his baby brother, the boy he had pretty much raised, who was now probably a rotting corpse in atlanta. but daryl still held out hope that m/n had gotten out, that he was safe, that he would find him oneday. this was why he never rested, these thoughts would creep up in the younger dixons head.

the sound of his motorcycle rumbling told him that merle was back. the older dixon sauntered over to daryl, a cigarette sat between his thin lips, "look what you're big brother merle got you, darylina" he pulled a pack of cigarettes out his pocket, sliding it into daryls pocket. daryl said nothing, staring into the distance; was that rick? the figure was too far away to discern.

"dad!" carl called out, jogging down. "look what i- m/n?" the young grimes exclaimed as he came closer to the pair. rick carried the half-conscious boy through the gates "you know this guy?" rick looked at carl, who flicked the hair out of m/n's face to get a better look "he was with us back in atlanta, we thought he died on a run"

daryl's heart stopped, did he hear carl right? they were pretty far away. standing up, he threw the pork bone aside and marched towards the two- three. when he finally came close enough to see the persons face, he had to stop himself from tearing up in front of carl and rick "m/n" he uttered out quietly. the father and son came to a halt as he approached "you knew this guy back in atlanta" rick nodded at daryl "'course i did. he's my brother" daryl was quick to take m/n off rick. he wanted to cut the mans arms off just for touching his precious brother.

daryl rushed m/n into the prison, settling him in his cell, "go get hershel" he told carol, who looked just as perplexed as merle did as he walked into the cell. "m/n!? i thought you was dead" he breathed out, shoving daryl out the way, who was quick to push back, both wanting to be as close to their younger brother as possible "where'd you find him" merle looked over at rick, who was standing out front the cell "in the woods, looked like he'd been running"

rick moved aside as hershel came in, merle reluctantly stood up as hershel sat to access m/n's condition. "he's lost a lot of blood" hershel examined the ear hole where the flesh and muscle had been ripped from "we should have bob look at him, but from what i can see he needs bandaging and antibiotics" daryl grunted "i ain't letting no stranger touch him" he ushered hershel away, taking m/n's hand in his own "i found antibiotics on last weeks run, that gon' be enough" merle looked over at the old man, who nodded "we'll have to see how he reacts"

neither daryl or merle left m/n's side whilst waiting for the antibiotics to kick in. it was strange. no one in the prison had ever seen either of them so worried for or attached to someone. but for the six days and nights m/n spent unconscious, his body fighting off the infection from his wounds, recovering from the months of maltreatment.

when m/n finally opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings, daryl was leaned against the wall at the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the boys face "sleep well?" was the first thing he said after the two had stared at each other for what felt like an eternity "yeah" m/n spoke softly.

"i should have never gone hunting that day" "am i dead" the two spoke in unison. daryl breathed out "no, never gon' let that happen" he shuffled closer, laying down next to the youngest dixon.

daryl stared at m/n intensely, until merle was roused from his sleep "m/n, i told you not to go out of my sight" he grumbled, sitting forward. m/n looked up at the metal frame of the top bunk "i just wanted to get you some narcan" merle stared at him, blinking away tears "didn' have to risk your life for it" he pursed his lips "i ain't worth you dyin'" he added quietly, sitting back, his eyes not leaving m/n's.

the room went silent for a moment "maybe not, but you're my brother" m/n closed his eyes for a moment "do you guys have pop or candy here?" he questioned hopefully. merle let out a chuckle "i found a can on my run today" he chuckled out, before going quiet "i chugged it on the spot"

"you piece of shit!"

[anothertwdblog]

Daryl has call Rick "Merle" by accident so many times

Most times it happens when they go hunting. For most of his life, the only person Daryl went hunting with was his brother, so Merle's name comes out of his mouth without a second thought.

Daryl quickly bites his tongue and says Rick's name louder than he usually would, hoping Rick doesn't notice, but he does, he doesn't call him out for it, but finds it kind of nice to be though as worthy of been mix up for someone so important in Daryl life

[allzelemonz]

Settle: Merle Dixon X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, language Warnings: Slurs (homophobic), Merle Dixon is his own warning, mention of Merle’s SS symbol, typical southern prejudice/homophobia, neck kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, cockwarming, hand job, cuddling, top Merle and bottom Reader Summary: After striking out with every woman in camp, Merle turns to you and ignores the gay aspect of sleeping with another man in favor of getting laid. A/N: Imagine my lack of surprise but utter disappointment in finding no male reader shit for Merle. Written out of spite. Enjoy.

After a third pill and a third strikeout, Merle is almost certain he’ll have to handle himself tonight. No woman in the whole damn camp wants any action, even with a touch of good ol’ Southern charm Merle attempted. Not a bite from anyone. So Merle stumbled through the cluster of tents, only half as high as he’d like to be and blue balls stiff between his legs. Just as he’s about to turn a corner towards his tent on the outskirts with his brother’s, he catches a pretty sight.

Not that Merle is gay. Of course not. But the man is asleep with his tent partly unzipped, shirt off and back arched like a damn whore. How could Merle not stare just a little. His eyes trail over your back, bare and just fuzzied by the drugs in his system that he may mistake things enough to ignore the dick between your legs.

So he kicks your foot, waking you up.

Your hand goes to your knife first, then you turn to see it’s not something dead behind you. “What, Merle?”

“Ya a queer?”

You squint at him, off put by the way he says it. “Why’re you asking?”

He shrugs. “Fella can’t be curious.”

“Not with that Nazi symbol on your bike you can’t.” You close your hand around your knife. “Go away.”

Merle chuckles, raising his hand in mock surrender. “Woah, woah, there… I was just askin’.”

You stare at him for a moment. “Fine. Yeah, I like men. I’m a queer. Are we done here?”

Merle bites at the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with the right words. “Ya let me fuck ya?”

“What?” You ask, sitting up to look at him properly.

Merle scoffs. “Ya heard me. Would ya?”

“Why would you-“

“Ladies ‘round here bein’ stingy.” Merle shrugs. “Hole’s a hole.”

“You’re joking.” You say in disbelief.

“Ain’t like I never fucked an ass before. It’s the same shit.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s really not.”

“Aw, come on, I’ll be quick.” Merle attempts a pout. “Ain’t no trouble.”

You sigh, shaking your head because you know it’s a dumb idea somewhere deep down. “Fine.”

Merle grins. “Atta boy.”

“Get on with it then.” You sigh, watching Merle step inside. “Zipper.”

Merle turns and zips the tent closed behind him, fumbling with it for longer than any regular person would. When he turns his hands go straight to his belt.

You watch his fingers move for a second. “You ever fucked another man before.”

Merle snorts. “Course not. I ain’t a queer.”

“It’s a little different, you know.”

“What?” Merle sneers. “I gotta play with yer pecker er somethin’?”

You shake your head. “Not necessarily. But you have to stick your fingers in for a while and stretch things out.”

“Yer just picky.”

“Maybe. Just do it, asshole, or I’m not gonna let you fuck anything.”

Merle pulls his belt free. “Fine. Pants off then, sweetheart.”

You huff, annoyed at Merle already, but it’s been far too long since you’ve had this chance. You pull your pants off, ignoring Merle’s eyes on your legs and turn around to lay on your stomach.

“Alright.” Merle grins, shuffling up behind you and nudging your legs apart. “What am I doin’ here, sweetheart?”

You turn your head back, half wanting to see the sight. “Put your fingers in your mouth.”

“Why?”

“Spit’s the only lube we have.” You mutter. “Just do it.”

Merle glares slightly, but does as he’s told and presses three fingers past his lips. He sucks on them, his other hand already going to your hip. It’s clear he’s never been the type to do this with any of the women he’s been with either. Without prompting, he drops the hand down and traces until he finds your rim.

“Ya ready for Merle’s magic fingers, boy?”

“Shut up.”

Merle chuckles, circling his finger around before slowly pushing inside. “Whew…” Merle exclaims. “Tight little thing, ain’t ya?”

You open your mouth to speak but Merle’s finger drags against your prostate and all you can manage is a groan as you bury your face down into your pillow.

He leans over you, his hand moving up to grip at the bare skin of your chest. “I find somethin’ good?”

You nod, mindlessly pushing back into him. “Fuck, Merle…”

He repeats the drag, his fingers moving quickly to fuck whatever sounds he can get out of you. You don’t expect much more, but he leans down and presses his lips to your neck. He trails sloppy kisses over your skin, his fingers fully thrusting into you at a quick pace.

“You want me?” Merle murmurs next to your ear. “Want Merle to fuck ya better than some fairy ever could, don’t ya?”

“Yeah…” You answer, spreading your legs as much as you can. “Why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Merle grins against your skin. “You just be a good boy. You’re good at that.”

He sits back up, removing his fingers and positioning himself properly behind you. His hands fix on your waist, pulling you back and propping you up on your widespread knees. You feel his tip press against you for just a second before he presses inside. There certainly isn’t enough lubrication or preparation, so the stretch of being entered hurts just enough to make a few whines form in your throat. Merle pushes all the same, stretching you open and filling you up with everything he has.

He groans as he bottoms out, running a hand over your spine. “You feel so damn good, sweetheart.” He squeezes your hip slightly. “Might turn me gay…”

Before you can think much about that, Merle begins to piston his hips at a quick pace. Both of his hands grip tightly at your hips and the force of his thrusts presses you forward into your pillow, only held up at the waist for Merle to fuck into you properly. You let him, relaxing into the hold and letting him use you because the slide of his dick hitting your prostate feels better than anything else. Merle pushes you down to lay flat, leaning over you and rocking into you as his head dips against your shoulder. The sleeping bag below you rubs at your dick with every thrust Merle gives you.

“Knew I liked you.” Merle mutters, half to himself. “Better than any damn woman… shit, sweetheart.”

Merle’s hips stutter and he groans as he releases, burying himself as deep as he can into you. You take heavy breaths as Merle relaxes on top of you, trying to ignore the squirming feeling of not having finished. Then Merle’s hand snakes under you, pumping furiously fast and gripping hard until you mutter his name and your vision blurs for a moment as you spurt cum onto your sleeping bag.

His hand slows to a massaging tempo and you can hear him inhaling strongly. “Ya gotta let me do that again sometime, boy.” He murmurs. “God, yer making me inta a queer.”

“Happy to help.” You mutter, still catching your breath.

Merle chuckles, letting both arms encircle you as he fully lets himself relax on top of you. “So ya liked my dick in ya?”

You bury your head into your pillow, avoiding his annoying question.

Merle chuckles. “Lemme sleep here?”

“Whatever.”

“Can I fuck ya in the mornin’?”

“If you want.”

He grins, settling his lips right next to your ear. “Ya gonna help keep little Merle warm all night too?”

You groan as he pushes against you, his soft dick still filling you and linking the both of you together. “Just sleep, jackass.”

He chuckles again. “Whatever you say, queer.”

[darylmydix]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon - 003

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x fireader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 2.3k

author’s note: if you asked to be in the taglist and you’re not, i apologize. it wouldn’t let me tag some of you. and yes, the person featured in this chapter is exactly who you probably think it is. also warning because this chapter may be triggering as it has attempted s/a.

You stare dolorously at your reflection through your vanity mirror; there was a desperate desire to wipe off all the makeup that coated your face. If the action didn’t come with an unpleasant outcome, you probably would have. Especially if it made you unappealing to whatever “guest” your stepmother had coming by.

You were adorned in a sultry black dress that was form fitting and showing off your curves. One thing your stepmother loved doing more than degrading you was dressing you up like her own personal doll. You hated it. You never pictured yourself as the sexy type. You didn't wear makeup because that merely wasn’t your cup of tea, and typically dressed down to avoid unwarranted gazes from depraved men.

Not that it mattered anyway. Dressed up or down, it still never ceased a creep from saying anything perverted. Merle Dixon proved that theory for you when he referred to you as “sugar tits” the couple times you’d been around him.

You get up from your vanity stool, shuffling over to your bed. You plop on the edge, trying to calm your nerves. You never knew what to expect from the men Sandra brought over. Some of them like to sit and talk before they get to business, while others like to jump straight into it. Some of them were vanilla and traditional, while others had kinks they were into.

None were ever too extreme, but it all made you feel filthy and uncomfortable nonetheless. What made you more unsettled was how many of the men were old family friends, or people in the neighborhood. It surely opened your eyes to how fiendish humans could be.

That’s why you always cherished your friendship with Daryl. He could be an asshole, and a bit prejudiced at times but deep down he had a heart of gold. You were lucky to be able to witness that side of him. He gave you hope for humanity.

A hard knock at your closed door interrupted your thoughts. You could feel your heart beating through your chest as it often did when this ordeal occurred. You let out a deep, unsteady sigh before speaking. “Come in.” You say. As the door opens, you’re face to face with a man you’d never seen before. “Well hello there.” He smiles, shutting the door behind him.

“H-hi…” you mutter, examining the man in front of you. He had longish gray locks, and facial hair. And he wore a buttoned up black long sleeved shirt embroidered with skulls and roses on it. He gave off a biker style. “I’m Joe.”

“Y/n.” You reply dryly, now looking away from the man.

“You’re very beautiful. I wasn’t sure what to expect.” He laughed heartily as though this whole scenario wasn’t disturbing. You don’t bother to respond, wanting the man to just get started and let this baptism of fire end. The man seemed to notice your lack of communication, and walked over to you. You tense a bit, but he suddenly takes a seat on the edge of the bed with you.

“You seem apprehensive, darlin’.” He says.

You weren't sure what he was expecting from this situation. You were being trafficked by your stepmother, and he was a dirty old man contributing to the crime. The man pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Y’know,” he starts. “I get it. This isn’t the most forthcoming thing to be happening right now, and you probably think I’m just a pervy old gu–”

“Can we just… not talk? I want this to be over as quickly as possible.” You finally speak up. The man looks at you, his expression suddenly changing from faux sincerity to an off putting smile. “Oh darlin’, this won’t be quick. It’s been awhile, so it might take me some time.” He chuckles before standing up and moving in front of you.

You keep your head down, not bothering to look at him until you hear the sound of metal clanging together. The man suddenly throws handcuffs beside you where he was sitting. You scrunch your brows together, looking from the cuffs to him. “Cuff yourself to the headboard.” He says, his tone demanding and not as laidback as it was moments ago. His entire demeanor had changed like the flick of a switch.

Your eyes widen at the command. You had never been cuffed to the bed before from any of the past men. The thought of being restrained and not able to fight back if anything happened frightened you. You weren’t so willing to put your trust, or even life into the hands of this stranger, who you were now getting an unwavering feeling about. “Go on. Do it.” He pushes.

“I don’t think… I don’t think I should.” You say slowly, looking away from the man’s displeased face. “You don’t… think you should?” He repeats your words just as slow. You nod your head. “I just wanna be comfortable. That’s all.” You try your best to get him to rethink the cuffs, but he seemed to be dead set on them. “Your mama back there told me you were obedient. I didn’t pay nearly $200 for you to tell me what you won’t do, girl.” He spat.

You cringed at him referring to Sandra as your mother. She could never be your mother. “She’s not my mother.” You correct him. The man scoffed. “I don’t give a damn who she is to you. I paid that money, and I’ll get what I want even if I have to cuff you myself.”

You shake your head. You didn’t care if you were going to suffer the consequences from this later. You’d put up with a lot of odd things from these men, but even the sheer thought of being cuffed to the headboard gave you crippling anxiety. You stand up from the bed, the man still towering your small frame. “I’ll get you your money back,” you assure him. “But I can’t allow you to cuff me.” You stand firm on your decision.

You tried to push past him to leave the bedroom, but were suddenly snatched by your wrist and pulled back. “Ain’t no need for that girl because I’m getting my money’s worth.” He says before tossing you to the mattress. You quickly try to get back up, but he’s pushing you down and grabbing the cuffs. “Get off me!” You shout, struggling against him.

“You’re only going to make this worse for you. Stop squirming.”

A stinging sensation comes across your cheek and you cry out in pain. The man had slapped you, leaving your cheek heated. “Sandra!” You yell for your stepmother in the most desperate attempt to get the man off of you. You knew better though. Your stepmother didn’t care what happened to you. As long as she got money, you were at the mercy of the men who paid her.

You muster up all your strength, finally able to flip the man off of you. He falls to the floor with a thud and a “oomf”. You use this opportunity to quickly jump from the mattress. The man swiftly gets back up to his feet. You know you had no time to make it to the door without him stopping you. You run to your dresser, grabbing the razor blade off the top of it.

Joe approaches you in ignorant bliss, unaware of the tiny blade you held. “Nowhere to run, girl. Let’s just bury the hatchet and start over. No cuffs.” He offers as if you were going to let this psychopath have his way after what he tried to do. “Fuck you, pig.” You snap.

“Have it your way.” He says, lunging at you. You speedily swing your arm, the blade cutting the man’s hand. He steps back, holding his bleeding hand. “You little bitch!” He shouts in pain. You take this opportunity to run to the door, ripping it open as you run out to the living room. You head for the front door, but are immediately grabbed. “Hey!” Your stepmother shouted. “What the hell’s going on? Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“That bastard tried to assault me, didn’t you hear me screaming for you?!” You cry.

“Assault? Did you forget your place, girl? He’s supposed to do that.” She spat angrily, knowing she was going to lose money for this.

“He tried to make me cuff myself to the bed, and when I told him no he tried to force me!”

“You think you have a say in what goes on? I do! If he wants to cuff you to the damn bed, then so be it. He’s a paying client, and I will not lose out on my money just because you wanna bitch about goddamn handcuffs!”

You look at her through wide eyes. Your stepmother was always cruel, this was no shocking matter. But to let this man attempt to assault you and tell you to just deal with it? You refused. You shake your head, snatching away from her grasp. “No.”

“No?” She questions. “I’ll teach you to tell me n–”

“I want my goddamn money back, bitch!” Joe came stumbling into the living room, his hand dripping blood. Your stepmother turns to him, her eyes drifting from him to his hand. “What the fuck happened to your hand?” She asks.

“That little whore cut me, that’s what!” He grimaced. “I want my money back, or both of you bitches are gonna pay.”

“Listen, I’m sure there’s a way we can work this out.” She tries to reason with him. As the two of them go back and forth, you use the opportunity to make your grand escape. You whip around, running to the front door before jerking it open and running outside. You could hear your stepmother yelling your name as you ran down the street barefoot.

You run to the only place you could run to, the only person you could run to.

You ran the entire 20 minutes until you finally reached the trailer parks. You walk through the gravel trail, ignoring the pain of rocks digging into your feet. You’re relieved as you see the Dixon residence lights on. You walk up the stairs, frantically knocking on the door.

“You get into some kinda trouble again, boy? Who the hell is bangin’ on the damn door like the feds?”

“Hell should I know?” You hear Daryl’s voice, footsteps approaching. You step back as the door opens with Daryl on the other side of it. Daryl’s staring at you, a worried expression on his face as he looks your shaken frame over. “Who the hell is it?” Will yells.

“It’s for me.” Daryl responds, closing the door as he steps outside. “The hell happened to you?” He’s grabbing your chin, looking you over. “Is that blood?” There’s a hint of fear in his voice at the thought of you getting hurt that bad. You nod your head. “But it’s not mine,” you assure him. “It’s some guy. I cut his hand after he tried to…” your lip quivers, eyes watering as you try to force yourself to explain to him, but he stops you.

“You ain’t gotta repeat it. He still there? I’ma kill that son’na bitch.” He stomps down the stairs. You follow him. “Daryl, no, wait!” You grab his forearm, stopping him. “Fuck we waitin’ for, huh?! I ain’t just gonna let ‘em get away with it!” He swings his arm in frustration.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say. “Last night you said this doesn’t have to be our reality…” you pause before speaking again. “So run away with me.” You speak through glossy eyes.

Daryl stares at you with a blank expression, as though he didn’t hear you. “What?”

“Let’s run away,” you repeat. “We could go anywhere. We could start over. Get out of this fucking dead weight town, with these twisted fucking people. Me and you…”

You await his answer, hopeful that he’d agree.

But he didn’t.

“I can’t.” He replied.

“What do you mean you can’t? Yes you can. We could leave right now and never look back, Daryl–”

“Man, I said I can’t!” He snapped. “I can’t just leave Merle alone with that asshole in there. He’s my brother.” You stare at him in shock. “And what am I to you?” You ask him. He doesn’t answer, looking away from your hurt gaze. “What am I to you?” You ask again, your eyes watering. He still doesn’t answer, almost as if he’s afraid to say.

“You think he cares about you? You’re not even worth a damn to care about.” Sandra’s voice echoes in the back of your mind.

“Oh god… Sandra was right. You don’t give a damn about me…” you push past him, on your way to leave the trailer park but Daryl hastily grabs you. “Aye, stop. You know that shit ain’t true. I just… I just need you to wait. Once Merle’s outta jail I’ll tell him so he can come with us.”

The thought of Merle tagging along wasn’t ideal. All his presence would do is drag Daryl down and the whole point of you two running away together was to get away from bullshit. Unfortunately Merle brings bullshit wherever he goes. Regardless of that fact, there was no clear way of knowing if he’d even come along when he’s out.

“And what if he says no? Then what?”

Daryl goes silent again, but that was all the answer you needed. You nod. “I get it,” You whisper. “Stupid of me to ever think you’d choose me over blood.” You sniff, laughing at yourself. “When he’s out,” you say. “We’ll ask. I’ll wait a little longer.”

“Will you?” He speaks up. Now it was your turn to go silent, not answering his question as you began to back away to leave. “I’ll see you later, Daryl.”

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