#walking dead merle

[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."

[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.”

Taglist:

@daryldixmedown, @supernaturalstilinski, @vampiresluv, @myassisasolarsystem, @mosstheshoeshoethemoss, @scripteria, @moonlightreader649, @creepumiku, @filmsbyblair, @ginger-haired-queen, @darylsdollie, @inkofthebrain, @teethvenom

[anothertwdblog]

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl

Part Six | 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: Shane Walsh sucks, unedited (I will get to it later, I promise)

Word Count: 1.2K

Author’s Note: Oof—alright, it's been a hot second, everybody. Apologies for going MIA for a while (life, y'know?). I haven't forgotten about this fic and I know that none of you have forgotten about it based on the amount of notes and messages I get (which I appreciate greatly). Thanks for sticking it out with me guys. Excited for you all to see what I have planned in the coming chapters. In the meantime, let me know what y'all think of this one & let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

“Fuck!”

The expletive escapes your lips before you can think twice about it. You nervously look around the camp, searching for Carl and Sophia. The last thing you need is for Lori and Carol to get on your case because you accidentally taught the children swear words. After realizing that neither of them is in earshot, you let out a sigh of relief. 

You look down at the garment in your lap. Shane had thrown a pair of his cargo pants at you earlier this morning, grumbling about a hole in one of his pockets. You had woken up earlier than him, probably because he had returned to your shared tent far after everyone else in camp had retired for the evening. This was becoming somewhat of a routine for the two of you: Shane sneaking around in the middle of the night thinking you’re asleep; meanwhile, you spend the restless nights in your tent waiting to see if he actually comes back. You never ask him where he was in the morning—knowing that Shane would brush you off by saying he was on watch as if you don’t understand that the shifts rotate every night. Another sigh escapes your lips as you defeatedly throw the pants onto the table before you and turn your attention to your finger, which you had clumsily stabbed with a needle while attempting to fix the garment.

“You ‘lright?”

The sound of Daryl’s rough southern drawl makes you jump. You look up and see Daryl standing a few feet away with his raised hands. He takes a few careful steps toward you—his movements are slow and calculated. Your brow furrows at the sight—did he think you’re afraid of him?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“It’s okay, Daryl. I was just a little distracted.”

Daryl nods at your words before taking a seat beside you at the table.

“What’d ya do to your hand?”

He leans toward you slightly to get a better look, his concerned eyes raking over your hands, looking for any sign of injury. A small smile spreads across your face as Daryl continues to worry about your well-being. You raise your hands to show him that you’re perfectly okay.

“It’s nothing. Just pricked my finger—Shane has a hole in his pocket, and I was never good with a needle and thread.”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you speak. Daryl chews on his bottom lip as he looks at the cargo pants on the table. It’s ripped along the seam, an easy fix—he’s done it numerous times for his own tattered jeans.

“Give it ‘er.”

You look at Daryl’s outstretched hand in disbelief for several seconds before handing him the needle and thread. Daryl snatches the pants off the table and gets to work. You watch him curiously—his brow furrows as he focuses on the task at hand. Daryl momentarily lets his attention drift to you; he awkwardly shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with how intently you’re watching him.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

His tone is defensive, but it doesn’t make you back down like everyone else.

“Just surprised, is all.”

“What, Shane doesn’t know how to sew?”

He meets your incredulous gaze and can’t help but laugh. The sound is still foreign to his ears, even though it’s becoming somewhat of an ordinary occurrence when he’s with you. He’s much more used to the sound of Merle yelling, music blaring, old motorcycles' roar, and the forest's peaceful ambiance. 

“Well, you shouldn’t have to do everything for him.”

His genuine words should comfort you, but instead, they nag at you. You shouldn’t have to do everything for him. You shouldn’t have to turn a blind eye to your boyfriend’s nightly habit. You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. You shouldn’t have to make yourself smaller for his convenience. And yet, here you are. 

“You have a cigarette?”

The question catches Daryl off guard. He’s only seen you smoke once—that night at the campfire, and he swore it was his fault. Your words from that night still rattle around in his head. You’re a bad influence, Dixon. He completes his final stitch, bringing the thread to his mouth so he can rip it off with his teeth. He places everything back on the table before pulling out his pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket and offering it to you. You take one from the pack, twisting it in your fingers before placing the cigarette between your lips. Daryl notices your hesitation as he hands you his old lighter, so he waits until you’ve lit your cigarette before pulling out one of his own. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, but something about this doesn’t sit right with Daryl.

“What’s goin’ on?”

You furrow your brow at his question, feigning confusion, but Daryl doesn’t relent. He simply raises a brow at you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. You let out a defeated sigh before answering his question.

“It’s just Shane…”

You trail off thinking that since it’s relationship drama, maybe Daryl wouldn’t be interested. But he doesn’t try to change the subject or brush you off, instead, he gives you his undivided attention. He watches you quickly look around camp, scooping the area and taking account of who is around. A frown pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips as he realizes that you’re once again looking over your shoulder for Shane.

“He wasn’t always like this. I mean, he was always a hothead, but he wasn’t always so cruel.” 

“Hey…”

The softness in his tone catches you off guard, and you look up at him. A part of you wants to cry at how attentive Daryl is at this moment. It’s been so long since someone has shown you this kind of care.

“You ain’t gotta defend him to me.”

Daryl watches as a single tear falls down your cheek at his words, and he begins to panic. Did he upset you? Was he out of line? Had he gotten the situation between you and Shane wrong? This isn’t his forte. He wishes he was a different man—a better man, a softer man. He wishes he was more like his mother and less like his father. That she could have lived long enough to teach him a few more life lessons—like how to comfort someone you care for. 

Before he has the chance to spiral completely out of control, he feels your fingertips find his, and his heart damn near stops. He involuntarily pulls away from your touch, and it makes him wince. He sits in the shame of his response to your touch. A better man would have been able to return your affection. Finally, he meets your gaze, expecting to see the hurt he caused by his reaction. Instead, he’s met with a smile so warm and tender that he can practically feel the shame in his body melt away.

“Thank you, Daryl.”

A small, affectionate smile pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips. 

“It was nothin’.”

You shake your head at his words. What he did for you today was far from nothing, but you let it go, opting to turn your attention back to the cargo pants on the table before you. As you admire Daryl’s handiwork, you can’t help but hope that Daryl knows that Shane’s pocket isn’t the only thing he stitched back together today.

Taglist: 

@minervadashwood

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@dreamtofus

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@all-will-be-well-love

[minidodds]

"I just want my brother back."

"Get out of here, man."

I am not okay, I will never be okay. 😭😭😭

[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!"

[dixonsgirl93]

How TWD men would react to you telling them they’re handsome

Daryl Dixon

- His eyes would widen slightly as he stared at you. It would be a couple of moments before your words sunk in and he spoke. “Uh…thanks? I don’t…uh… Why ya tellin’ me tha’?” He’d question more about the why, being suspicious. “Tha’s cute but I ain’t handsome. I ain’t… don’t lie to me.” You’d say again that you really think he is. He’d turn away before you could see his blush. He’d stare hard at you, probably looking for signs of dishonesty but when he found none he’d walk away, not knowing what to say. He’d also be thinking about it still in years to come.

Rick Grimes

- “Handsome? Really?” He’d smirk, not because of the compliment necessarily but because of your boldness to say it. “How uh…how long have you thought that? …Since you first lay eyes on me? Well, damn. Took you long enough to say somethin’. Yeah, that’s right, I’ve seen you looking at me.” He’d wink and step in close, pinning you against the car door. He’d lean down and whisper in your ear. “Later.”

Negan Smith

- He’d chuckle softly, giving you his classic sexy smoulder. “You really think so, huh? How handsome do you find me? You wanna fuck me, is that it?” At your blush he’d chuckle again and come closer to you. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t go coy now. Speak up, baby. I gotta know.” He’d get the information from you one way or another and then have his way with you, knowing you want him badly.

Merle Dixon

- “Don’t toy with me, sugar.” He’d warn, already assuming you’re playing some sort of trick on him. “You think I’m what now? Handsome? What’s that mean, huh? You like me or sum’n?” When you’d confess you did, his demeanour would change, becoming flirty. “Ohhh, you like old Merle now, huh, Sugar? Well, I know what we can do about that.” He’d smirk and pull you into him hard.

[villifix]

it seemed a lot of people liked the brother-in-law merle headcanons and a couple of people like the idea of uncle merle, so... let's talk about how you and daryl make merle an uncle :)

─•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•─

• you get pregnant not long after the group settles in alexandria

• merle keeps his distance from you while you're pregnant

• your hormones are all over the place, you go from laughing to crying at the drop of a dime, and any time he opens his mouth around you, he's always saying the wrong thing

• daryl has to play mediator so that you don't kill him, even though sometimes daryl considers doing it himself

• like when merle mentioned how big you were getting during your second trimester... *sigh*

• you cried

• daryl snapped

• it was... not a good day

• so he stays away for the most part, asking daryl when he wants to know how you're doing. he occasionally brings you some snacks that he must have stolen from the pantry, but you're always too hungry to care about how he got them

• first time merle actually calls you his sister out loud is after you've given birth and he holds his niece for the first time

• "atta girl, baby sister. you did real good."

• he is BEAMIIIINNGGG

• his eyes are just a little wet because the air is dry, that's all...

• he had wanted a nephew so bad, but the second he sees her, his heart grows three times it's size

• he was convinced that dixons could only make boys, but here he is holding a little dixon girl, daryl's babygirl, and she's the most precious thing he's ever seen

• constant jokes about needing a paternity test

• "i'm just saying, that nose is lookin' more like mine than yours, maybe your girl slipped into the wrong bed one night-" "shut the hell up, merle"

• merle always gives you a little wink to show he's just being an ass and not actually accusing you of such a thing

• which daryl knows. it doesn't annoy him any less, though

• never allowed to babysit EVERRRR. if your daughter isn't with aunt carol or aunt maggie, then she's at the grimes house. merle always has choice words about it

• okay, well... he babysits a couple times. and your daughter was returned back each time covered in dirt. one time merle carries her up to the door with wet pant legs pulled up to her knees and bits of leaves still strewn in her hair

• "oh... you had a fun time with uncle merle, huh?" "damn right she did, mamas. taught 'er how to catch frogs. babydoll, tell yer mama what a frog says!" "bib-bit!" "she's learnin'."

• saying the name merle is too complicated for your daughter's limited articulation, so she just calls him 'unca' while she's learning to talk.

• when your daughter DOES start to articulate...

• "son of a bitch!" "bitch!" "ha! that was good! wait- nah, nah, don't say that- aw, shit..." "shit!" "no!"

• he refuses to own up to it

• "merle! why's my daughter cursin' like a fuckin' sailor?" "well, darleena, sounds to me like she's gettin' it from you!"

• he's the favorite uncle (after aaron - your daughter adores aaron)

• rick's lowkey offended by it and tries to subtly bribe your daughter into saying she likes him more

• "uncle dick!"

• ...

• "... are you kiddin' me?" "don't know where she learned that from. must be a good judge'a character."

little bonus that doesn't have to do with uncle merle: it's really up to you, but i like to think that you and daryl would have agreed to name your daughter beth 🥺 you would have suggested the name, knowing that part of daryl never really healed after her death, and he would freeze. forgets how to breathe for a second as the memories wash over him. and then he would blink really fast as he feels his eyes start to water and he'd give you that soft little nod he does when he's trying not to cry. PLEASE- 😭

[heythereofficerfriendly]

not done any merle text posts for so long

*waves to TWD fandom* i hope everyone is alive and well and loving it still

[panic-attheplace]

TWD characters and why I think they'd get canceled in today's social media

Shane: kept re-posting blue lives matter stuff on his twitter, wouldn't stop calling women "females", told a lesbian she just hadn't met the right man

Rick: tried to defend Shane "he's a good man, he just says the wrong things sometimes."

Lori: being an out-of-touch mommy-blogger

Merle: said multiple slurs 💀 also probably posts rage-bait on his main

Daryl: got in twitter beef with a vegan because they called him out for hunting

Carol: Yelled at a child for misbehaving in public (the parents did not appreciate it)

Andrea: having a problematic boyfriend

Carl: tried to scam children on roblox

[dilfsandmartinis]

I know this man is a virgin. everything he knows about sex is from pornography and Merle. When Merle brought women, he spied on them, He did it to "learn and be prepared" but he never had sex. when the dead rose and despite his abilities he was not sure if he would survive, He got desperate, he needed it, So he approached you like Merle would, and you fell. He wants to make you believe that he's already had sex, so he would roughly touch you and call you a whore, like he saw Merle doing. BUT the moment this man sees a pair of tits in front of him he will come in his pants.

Sorry not sorry. Sometimes these dirty ideas and scenarios come to me and I think why don't I upload it to the Internet?

English is not my first language so sorry if there are mistakes.

🍋

[darylmydix]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon - 002

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: 1.5k

author’s note: sorry if your name isn’t in the taglist and you asked to be. it wouldn’t let me tag some of you.

You lift your hand, blocking out the sun’s gleaming rays as you watch Daryl mutilate an opossum, removing the poor creature's insides. “Can’t you cook it or something?” You scrunch your face in pure disgust.

Daryl scoffs, eyeing you. “This ain't a damn five star restaurant, princess.” He says as he pops a piece into his mouth. “Well I am not eating that.” You shake your head. Daryl shrugs, making no complaints. “More for me.”

Eating dead animals was a cakewalk for someone like Daryl. He’s had to learn how to survive during times like this when his father would kick him out. At least he knew how to hunt and track thanks to the old man. The one good thing the bastard has done for his son.

You observe in silence while Daryl pigged out like he was enjoying a fine dine meal, even going as far as licking his fingers. “I don’t understand how you can eat raw animal guts. Aren’t you afraid of rabies?”

“It’s survival,” he states. “The world could go to shit one day where we ain’t got a choice but to eat crap like this. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

The thought of that makes you sick to your stomach. You didn’t even wanna imagine a world where you’d have to tear apart defenseless animals to save yourself from hunger. It just wasn’t in your human nature to hurt anything innocent. “I don’t think I could do that no matter the circumstances.” You admit.

“Then you sure as shit better hope the world don’t ever come to an end. You’d be the first to get taken out.” He jokes, but there’s some seriousness to his words. Compared to Daryl’s hardass exterior, you were as soft as a plush toy.

Two different personalities; but that’s why your friendship seemed to work so well. Daryl needed something delicate in his life to take the brute in him down a peg, and you needed a brute to protect you from what you’re too delicate to protect yourself against.

“Maybe you’re right...” You sigh, fiddling with your fingers, well aware of your fragility.

“Best be lucky ya got me then.” He says, standing up, while wiping his bloody hands on his pants. You look up at him, a smile forming your face. Daryl avoids your gaze, which he often does when he says anything remotely soft or caring to you. It was just the brooding man in him wanting to hide any emotional connection, but you knew he cared about you. And he knew you knew.

“I am lucky I have you.” You say softly. His eyes finally lock with yours for a split second before he simply nods and changes the subject. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.” He holds out his hand for you to take. You bite the inside of your cheek, rejecting the gesture. “I’m not in a rush to go back there.” You glowered.

“I know, but I ain’t tryin’ to get you into trouble again.” Daryl reminds you of the day that not only did you suffer consequences, but he did as well. Last time you avoided going home, you returned only to find cop cars outside of your house and your stepmother pretending to be oh so worried about you.

“Him!” She shouted, pointing to Daryl. “Arrest that inbred thug! He kidnapped my daughter!”

You tried to plead with the officers, telling them that wasn’t true but given the criminal history of the Dixon family it fell upon deaf ears and you had to sadly watch as your best friend was forced into a squad car. Fortunately he didn’t get into much trouble by the police, and was taken home.

His father was another story though.

You sigh, taking his hand and the brunette lifts you off the ground. “For the record, I’m only going because I don’t wanna get you in trouble again.” You inform him. Daryl scoffs. “Yeah whatever.”

“There it is. The house of horrors.” You mumble, staring ahead at the home that no longer brought you joy. “Need me to stick around a bit? Watch over the house?” Daryl suggests, and you look at him with a raised brow. “You’re gonna stakeout my house? What good would that do?” You ask.

“First prick I see walk up there’ll get his ass kicked, that’s what good it’ll do.” He spat. You could feel the anger radiating off of him; you shake your head. “You and Merle got it bad with assault,” Daryl glares at you in response. “If you just a walk up and kick whatever sick fuck comes to my door to get his jollies off then all my stepmom’ll do is call the police and have you arrested for stalking and battery.”

Daryl made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Pigs would be givin’ me a medal if they knew the fuck was goin’ on in there. What those assholes and that bitch was doin’.” He was passionate about your situation, and you appreciated it because you felt the same when it came to him and his own. “Hell am I supposed to do?”

You put your hand on his shoulder, which makes him tense slightly before he’s calm. “Nothing. Like I said, it’s just our reality. Go home, Daryl. Eat a meal better than opossum. For me, please.” You giggle a bit.

“You sure?” He asks.

“That I want you to eat a meal better than opossum? Pretty sure.”

The brunette scowls at your joke. “No. That you want me to go.”

You knew what he meant, but you often deflected questions like that because in the end what you wanted didn’t really matter. Stay or go, your position was all the same. “Yeah. Go home.” You give his shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning to walk away. “Hey,” Daryl calls out, and you look back at him. “I’ll wait out here for a bit.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re a stubborn bastard.”

“Yeah, well it takes one to know one.”

You roll your eyes, turning away once again to walk home. You pull your keys from your sweater pockets as you get to the door, but it was suddenly ripped open with your stepmother standing there eyeing daggers at you. “The hell have you been? I almost had to call the law and report you missing again.”

“I’m an adult now, Sandra...”

“Like I give a damn. Get your dumbass in here.” She pointed inside with her thumb. You sigh, stepping into the house. Your stepmom pokes her head out, noticing Daryl standing there on the sidewalk. “What the hell are you doing by my house, you yokel?” She hissed.

“I was walkin’ her home, somebody’s gotta make sure she’s okay.” Daryl spat back. Your stepmother chuckled. “Well, aren't you quite the gentleman.” She snarked. “Well she’s here now, so why don’t you take your hillbilly ass back to the trailer park where you belong and get the hell away from my property before I call the cops.” She slams the door, getting the last word.

You peer at Daryl through the living room window, mouthing for him to ‘just go’. You could see him struggling within himself with the decision before he heads off. Your stepmother shuts the curtains, glaring at you. “Don’t you ever bring that redneck here again or I’ll make you regret it.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, holding back tears. “What do you have against him? He is the only thing in this world that I have that cares about me.”

She laughed mockingly. “You think he cares about you? You’re not even worth a damn to care about. The only thing you’re good for, honey, is making me money to keep this damn roof over our head. And if that little bastard isn’t helping support that, then he has no business here. Next time I see him I’ll get a restraining order and make sure he’ll never step foot here again, do you understand?”

You don’t respond, tears now falling down your face. She roughly grabs your arm, digging her nails into your skin. You yelp in pain. “Do you understand?!” She repeats. “Yes!” You cry out. She lets go of you, throwing your arm from her grasp. “Now go shower. We’ve got a guest coming later tonight.”

You quickly rush to your bedroom, slamming the room door shut. You pace around your room, wiping tears from your eyes. You were full of different emotions. Anger, sadness, sorrow, hate, agony. You wanted to just give up on this life. You had no willingness to live.

You open your drawer, digging through your clothes until you find the razor you keep in your drawer. You eye the tiny blade, twisting it around in your finger. ‘It could just end here’. You thought.

But then the sudden flash of Daryl came into your mind.

Like it always does.

You threw the razor atop of your dresser, the unwillingness fading away. “Daryl Dixon the things I do for you.” You mutter to yourself.

Taglist:

@daryldixmedown, @supernaturalstilinski, @vampiresluv, @myassisasolarsystem, @mosstheshoeshoethemoss, @scripteria, @moonlightreader649, @creepumiku, @filmsbyblair, @ginger-haired-queen, @darylsdollie

[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

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl

Part Seven | 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: Merle Dixon sucks, unedited (I will get to it later, I promise)

Word Count: 1.1K

Author’s Note: SO, your boy's a blue-collar worker currently struggling through increased heat and hours during the summer, but I love this fic and no matter how much time passes I will continue to come back to this guy. Let me know what y'all think of this one & let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist. And thank you for your continued support for this lil fic -- it means the world to me.

“Tonight’s the night, little brother.”

Merle’s voice tears through the silence in their makeshift camp. Daryl peers up at Merle from his crouched position -- the younger Dixon had been going through their food supply before Merle came storming in. Daryl rolls his eyes at the interruption. Although he’s known his brother his entire life, it always surprises him how different the two are. All he’s heard his entire life is: those Dixon brothers, two sides of the same coin. However, where Daryl is reserved, Merle is intrusive, and where Daryl is observant, Merle is careless. Although the two brothers are cut from the same backwoods cloth, they seem to have less in common than one would think.

Daryl ignores his brother’s outburst, returning his attention to their limited rations. He lets out a frustrated sigh before strategizing.

“We’re running low on food. I’ll go out hunting tomorrow. Rest of the group is headed out to scavenge the city; might wanna join ‘em.”

Merle brushes past Daryl, snatches the last bag of jerky from their pile of food, and begins chowing down in front of his younger brother. Daryl furrows his brow at his brother’s actions. Before he can lash out at him for being so irresponsible with their rations, Merle speaks up.

“Won’t have to worry ‘bout any of that after tonight.”

Daryl’s head cocks to the side as he tears his attention away from their inventory and now focuses intently on his brother.

“The hell are you on about?”

Merle rolls his eyes at Daryl’s question as if the younger Dixon should be able to read his mind. 

“We’ve been ‘er long enough. I say we wait til everyone’s asleep tonight and take everything we can.”

Daryl shrinks at the thought of just robbing the camp blind. Merle had mentioned the idea during their first night at the quarry; however, Daryl figured, as days passed, that the older Dixon brother had decided against the idea. Apparently, Daryl was wrong.

“I don’t know, man.”

Daryl’s apprehension seems to only rile his brother up more.

“C’mon little brother, everything they have is just sitting in that camper -- it’s like they’re begging us to take it!”

Daryl shakes his head at his brother’s words. They can’t -- he can’t. He doesn’t want that weighing on his guilty conscience for the rest of his numbered days. The world may have ended, but Daryl hasn’t lost his humanity yet. He can’t steal from children, or families, or you. He pushes himself off the floor before responding.

“Nah, man. Not now.”

Daryl attempts to brush past Merle, leaving the conversation there; however, Merle roughly pushes against Daryl’s chest. Daryl staggers for a second before regaining his balance. He looks incredulously at his brother, who seems to be champing at the bit. Merle’s always been impatient, and he’s never liked to stay in one place for too long, even before the end of the world. On the other hand, Daryl knows there’s safety in numbers nowadays -- who knows how long the two of them would be able to make it on their own? And what of the quarry camp -- would they just leave them to turn on themselves?

“This was always the plan, Daryl. What’s changed, huh?”

“Your plan sucks, man. We don’t even know what’s out there -- how many of ‘em are out there! At least here we’re safe.”

His reasoning does nothing to calm down Merle. Daryl is suddenly very glad that the two brothers were so far away from the rest of the camp -- the last thing he wants is for Merle to make scene, again.

“What you making friends while I’m gone? You going soft on me?”

“Fuck off, Merle.”

Merle doesn’t take the bait, instead, he studies his younger brother’s face for a second. Suddenly, it’s as if a switch has been flipped as Merle’s face breaks out into a shit eating grin. 

“You are going soft on me.”

It comes out as a statement, not a question. This only causes Daryl’s brow to furrow deeper. 

“What are you talking about?”

“This is all about that bitch, right?”

Daryl’s blood boils at Merle’s question. His jaw locks, and his fists clench as he attempts to stop himself from throwing himself at his older brother. Merle seems to be enjoying how his words make Daryl’s skin crawl. 

“Little brother, I never thought you’d be one to go after a taken woman.”

Daryl knows that Merle is just trying to get a rise out of him; he just wants a reaction. And as much as his words are pissing him off, Daryl knows that he simply has to act indifferent to his accusation.

“You could take her with us. Could use something fun on the road.”

Daryl grinds his teeth together at the thought, but he will not give Merle the satisfaction of causing an outburst from his younger brother.

“Shut up, Merle.”

“Can’t believe some bitch has already got you whipped.”

Finally, something in Daryl snaps as Merle sneers at him. He gets up in Merle’s face, attempting to intimidate his older brother, but he doesn’t back down.

“This ain’t got nothin’ to do with her. She don’t mean nothing to me!”

Daryl expects him to escalate the fight; however, Merle’s face shifts into that shit-eating grin once again as his eyes land on something behind Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl turns to face whatever has piqued Merle’s interest, his curiosity getting the better of him, and his stomach drops as his eyes land on you. Daryl’s face immediately softens as he notices the hurt etched into your features. Without a word, you turn and head back toward camp.

“Wait… damn it.” 

As much as Daryl wants to race after you and explain, he lets you go, knowing he’d just hurt you more -- he’s still seething from his confrontation with Merle, and you’re probably still processing what you just overheard.

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

Daryl ignores his brother’s question and moves to retire to their tent for the night, but Merle sidesteps, stopping him in his tracks. Before Daryl can question his motives, Merle speaks.

“I did you a favor, little brother.”

Daryl looks at his brother in disbelief. 

“All I did was show her who you truly are.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

Daryl pushes past him and enters their tent. He wants to blame Merle for what just happened, but he’s the one who lost his temper. And he only lost his temper because Merle was right. He can’t rob the camp and then sneak away in the middle of the night because that means he’d have to leave you behind -- and he just can't do it. Not after you opened up to him about Shane.  He lets out a frustrated sigh as he lays down his worn sleeping bag. What do you think of him now? Is he just another asshole to you, like Shane or Merle? He wants to think he’s better than that. 

But maybe Daryl is wrong. 

Maybe the Dixon brothers really are two sides of the same bad-tempered, jagged coin -- but that won’t stop him from trying to prove the opposite, as long as you let him.

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[darylsdelts]

Daryl wasn’t always such a tough guy, he was emotional like any other child when he was little.

Between the ages of 4 to 6, Daryl was fascinated with the play park. The only bad thing about it were there were other kids there, kids that wanted to make friends with Daryl, kids that weren’t overcome with such painful anxiety at a young age that Daryl couldn’t understand.

However, he’d still go to the park all by himself because he liked the swings. When he’d get there, if there was someone on the swings already, he’d sit on the tarmac floor (right next to a perfectly fine bench but he was not taking the chances of someone coming to sit by him) and wait. He wouldn’t ask for a turn, he would just wait.

Sometimes, if Merle came with him he’d encourage Daryl to go and ask for a turn. Merle so desperately wanted Daryl to make friends, making friends meant play dates and play dates meant going to somebody else’s house that didn’t have a drunk, abusive man in it, he wanted Daryl away from it. But Daryl never wanted to make friends.

One day Daryl went to the park by himself, which was more common than going with Merle, and when he got there the swings were free! He ran to his favourite swing, struggling a bit to get on it since he was quite short. He persevered and completed the difficult task, next came swinging himself, which was hard too but he managed to get it going. After being on the swing for about half an hour, he wanted to get off to go on the slide. He found that stopping the swing and getting off took way too long for how excited he was, so he decided to try what he’d seen some bigger kids do. He wanted to jump off.

He was sure he could do it, he prepared himself, jumped, completely missed his feet, landing on his hands and knees. Now, his knees were scraped and bloody, along with the heels of both palms.

The five year old’s eyes welled with tears, quickly he rose to his feet and his little legs worked as hard as they could to get him home. He planned on getting in and going to momma, knowing daddy wouldn’t help.

Merle was round the side working on something when he heard the scuffing of shoes and loud sniffling and he knew exactly what had happened.

Quickly, he rounded the corner and stepped in front of the front door to stop Daryl.

“Ya got hurt, baby brother?”

Daryl shook his head and sniffled, trying to get past Merle to get to momma.

Obviously Merle could see Daryl was crying and he could see his bloody knees. He took Daryl’s forearms in his hands and turned them to see his scraped palms.

“Looks tough, brother”

“Move… needa get momma…”

Merle knew that their mother wasn’t home right now and if Daryl went in there, crying, all he was gonna get was yelled at and beaten.

“She ain’t home, bud… s’only pa… C’mere”

Merle tried to pull Daryl in his direction but Daryl hastily shrugged him off. Merle could be a huge meanie sometimes and he was sure he was gonna make fun of him.

When Daryl wouldn’t budge, Merle reluctantly lifted Daryl straight off the ground, carried him to the side of the shack and sat him on the rotting bench.

Of course the whole time Daryl was grumbling.

“Put me down, merwe!”

“S’for your own good, lil brother, show me yer hands”

Daryl slowly held his hands out to his big brother, hoping he’d help. Daryl had originally planned to go cry in mommy’s arms but now he was with Merle, he was trying not to.

Merle poured some water from a plastic bottle over the little boys palms and knees and wiped over them with his handkerchief.

A few tears fell from Daryls eyes but Merle ignored it.

“Some pretty nasty busts ya got ‘ere… musta been doin’ some real brave shit, huh?”

Merle wanted to cheer Daryl up but he wasn’t sure how.

“Jumped off da swing”

“Ya ain’t quite stuck the landing’ yet… plen’y o’ time ta practice… I’ll go wit’ ya to the damn park tomorruh”

“Pwomise?” Daryl looked at him with wide, hopeful, blue eyes.

Merle hated making promises to Daryl, but he reckons he could keep this one so he ruffles his hair and nods before reaching into his vest pocket and pulling out a bandaid (that may or may not be in there for when he takes Daryl’s blood and needs to put a plaster over the needle hole) and gently putting it on the more scuffed knee of the two.

“You gon’ sit ‘ere n watch me work on this piece o’ crap?”

Daryl nodded and Merle was relieved, he didn’t want Daryl going inside yet, not with how his eyes were still misty and red rimmed.

He’d never said this before, it felt awkward to say it to be honest but he figured it’s what mom would’ve said to him and he knows that Daryl wants her.

“Good boy, Daryl… pass me that driver”

Daryl’s feet kick a little at the praise, he’s too little to reach the ground, as he passes over the screw driver.

[ihaveabuckyproblem]

He Had It Comin’ | D.D.

Summary: Daryl once told the group that Merle wasn’t a r@pist, but no one could deny the way Merle looked at you.

-

Warnings: fem reader, sexual harassment, attempted r@pe, protective!Daryl, villain!Merle, set in Alexandria, (we’re just gonna act like Merle never died), death threats, triggering threats, crying, guns, pinning, etc.

-

You were groggy, things all confusing and hazy in your awakening state. The sunlight barely creeped through the curtains as they failed to cover all of the window, allowing the golden rays to shine into your face. The urge the open your eyes got the best of you, so you did, and immediately groaned when you were blinded by the sunlight.

After a couple more seconds, you were coherent. You didn’t have to turn to see that Daryl was sleeping peacefully beside you. He had one arm propped under his head, a force of habit he never was able to break away from. His other arm was holding onto you, feeling as though someone was about to pull you away from him at any given moment and he’d never see you again. It always amazed you how strong he was, even while he slept.

Moments like these brought a small smile to your lips as you wished you could stay here in this moment forever. Nothing brought you more peace, you were the safest you’ve been since the world fell and the dead rose.

You could feel Daryl’s steadily paced breaths warming your neck, his face nuzzled into it. You knew you’d have to get up soon, but everything in you was telling you not too. To stay here, wearing nothing but Daryl’s t-shirt and a pair of underwear, while your lover slept next to you as if there wasn’t a world outside of your shared room.

Suddenly, your peaceful thoughts and blissful mood were interrupted as your bedroom door is quite literally slammed open. You felt Daryl’s body tense immediately as you both shut up, Daryl’s hand already reaching for the knife under his pillow.

“Rise and shine!” As if seeing Merle standing there wasn’t enough, his voice rang loudly throughout the once quiet room. Immediately, Daryl relaxed, but rolled his eyes.

“Get outta here, man.” Daryl raised his voice at his older brother, throwing his hands up.

You hadn’t taken your eyes off the older Dixon. And he sure as hell hadn’t taken his eyes off you either, the way your bare legs looked exposed like that mind his eyes have no shame. You shuddered in disgust, immediately throwing the blanket over your body.

Daryl caught onto his brother’s creeping eyes and stood up out of bed, stomping over to Merle.

“Stop bargin’ in ‘ere, asshole. Yer creepin’ her out.” He growled at him, spitting his words out like venom. Merle smirked, finally tearing his gaze off you and looked at his little brother.

“I can’t help but look when my sweet baby brother got himself a nice piece of ass hanging around.” Merle spoke without shame. This made Daryl’s blood boil, he pushed Merle back and out of the room before slamming the door back shut. All you could hear was Merle’s descending laughter as he walked away.

You wanted to be shocked, like you didn’t expect it. Like this wasn’t normal. But, truth be told, Merle’s behavior towards you has always been that way. No matter how many times Daryl threatened to smash his skull in or take off his other hand, Merle said and did as he pleased when he pleased.

“‘M sorry bout him, he’s an ass.” Daryl muttered the last part to himself as he walked towards his dresser, intent on getting ready for the day.

“I think it was a mistake to let him move into the basement.” You muttered, letting your dislike for Merle seep into your tone.

Daryl didn’t say anything because he knew you were right. He hates the way Merle speaks to you, it isn’t okay and it makes you uncomfortable, and that’s enough for him to want to send Merle to an early grave. But, Merle was blood, the last family Daryl had.

“I’ll talk to ‘em.” Daryl reassures, sending you a “I promise” look.

~

Hours had passed and you hadn’t seen Daryl since this morning. After getting dressed and ready for the day, you parted and went your separate ways. Daryl had been positioned with Rick today on supply runs while you were on training with the kids.

The day was going great, the kids were going through their training wonderfully. Even Adam, the little boy who is scared of his own shadow, did wonderful knife work. It made you proud seeing how far they’ve come.

All that pride washed out of your system when you felt another presence. You didn’t move, standing there with your hands on your hips, observing the children. You felt uneasy, as if prying eyes were on you. And they were.

Merle had been passing by the training grounds when he spotted you. You have no idea how long he’d been there, just watching, eyes glued to your ass. He sexualized you worse than any man ever had and it was disgusting. You were a big girl and you knew how to fend for yourself, but having to fight against the living is the scariest thing you ever had to do.

As long as Merle kept his distance, you didn’t care. You knew how jealous he was that Daryl had you and he didn’t, but that wasn’t your problem. He needed to learn respect.

All of a sudden, you felt a quick pressure on your backside, causing you to stumble forward.

Did someone just smack my ass?

You whipped around faster than you could imagine only to be met with the serious yet mischievous stare of Merle. He had that uneasy smirk plastered on his face that sent chills down our spine.

Oh, your blood was boiling. The nerve he had to put his hands on you, his brother’s woman. You could hear the kids still continuing on with their training, oblivious to the creep in the area, but all you could see was red.

“Now, that’s a nice piece of-“ before you could let him finish his sentence, you reared back your first in seconds, giving it all your force as you felt your knuckles come in contact with his cheekbone.

Merle was on the ground in seconds, looking at you with pure shock. You didn’t hear the children practicing anymore, so you knew you had eyes on you. Your senses came back to you and that’s when you looked down at your red knuckles, instantly getting hit with the sharp pains throbbing in your hand. You gripped your wrist and hissed.

“You bitch!” Merle hollered, making your head snap up.

“Watch your tone or I’ll rock your shit again,” you snapped at him, coming down from your adrenaline high, “Get out of here. They’re just kids, they don’t need to see anything else.”

You didn’t give him the time of day to respond before you turned your back on him and walked away. He gathered himself and left, but not without griping and complaining, muttering a bunch of curses and threats under his breath.

An hour later and you couldn’t bear the pain in your hand, your fear is that it was broken. You made up some lame excuse and told the kids that training was done for the day. You made sure they all put their knives back into their holsters and told them all what a good job they did. After the last child made their way home, you realized the sun was on its way to setting. Letting out a sign, you gently grabbing your wrist, keeping your hand steady as you walked to Carol’s home.

-

“This looks bad, Y/N.” Carol said softly, having a delicate hold on your injured hand. You winced, trying to bite your tongue from the pain.

“You should see the other guy.” You joked, only, it didn’t come off as humorous as you hoped. Carol was quick to look at you, concerned, before reaching for her medical kit.

“This is from a fight?” She asked.

You scoffed at how funny that sounded to you. It was better than your joke.

“It was less of a fight and more of a promise.” You spoke truthfully. Not keeping the truth any longer, you informed Carol of what happened. She was upset for you, to say the least. Carol was your best friend outside from Daryl, so she already knew of your worries when it came to Merle. She didn’t like him either but she was always worrying about you living in the same house as him.

“Are you gonna tell Daryl?” She asked, putting the last piece of gauze tape on your wrapped hand.

Daryl.

You forgot about the fact that you would have to tell Daryl. He would question your hand… and you never lie to each other. It was an unspoken rule and brutal honesty was a big factor in your relationship.

You bit your lip nervously, how do you tell your boyfriend that his brother smacked your ass? Your thoughts became overwhelming, Daryl loves his brother. But he also loves you. What if he thinks you’re making him chose?

You mentally laughed to yourself at how ridiculous that sounds. After Carol finished your hand, you looked out the window, seeing nothing but the deep setting sun. All the light was almost drained from the sky, you could tell the moon was about to make its appearance.

Thanking Carol, you bid your goodbyes, knowing Daryl was probably home. After leaving Carol’s house, you tried not to think about the situation. It wasn’t worth the stress… Merle wasn’t worth the stress.

It wasn’t long before you reached you and Daryl’s home. The lights were off, meaning no one else was home. You sighed, dragging your feet up the stairs. He must be somewhere with Rick unpacking whatever supplies they brought back. You smiled to yourself thinking about the man you love.

You made your way into the house, kicking off your boots at the door. It was dark in the house, but there was enough moonlight coming in through the windows that you could make your way around. Your body felt so tired and your hand was starting to throb again. Why did you have to strike him with your most useful hand?

You shook it off and deposited your holster belt on the kitchen counter. The weight off your hips was relieving. You arched your back, giving it a good stretch.

Then, you felt something cold pressed against your head. Your body tenses almost instantly, your heart rate speeding up in seconds. You knew what that was. Anyone in Alexandria would recognize the feeling of a gun pressed to the back of their head.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Merle mocked, his voice flooding your ears.

For fucks sake.

“Bet that hand feels just about as good as my face, doesn’t it, honey?” He chuckled, taking a step closer. You closed your eyes and took and big breath in and out- you couldn’t show him your fear.

“What do you want, Merle?” You seethed. You were eyeing your holster belt that was only a couple feet away that held your knife.

“You know what I want baby.” His voice was low and hungry, now pressing himself against your back. As if you weren’t tense before, you were stiff as a door now. He moved the gun to press to the side of your head, grabbing your hip hard. Your winced in pain at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hip, but he had other plans than just that. He grabbed you by the back of your neck and slammed your body down onto the counter, making you bend over it as sharp groan leaving your lips.

This was happening. This was really happening. The sudden realization of the situation you were in made a wave of fear come crashing over you. All the jokes, the comments, the stares… This is what he was thinking about? Forcing himself on you over the counter?

No. This can’t happen, you weren’t gonna let this happen. Merle was ripping off your shirt when you came to your senses. This was enough for you to throw your head backwards and into his mouth, making him holler in pain. To your surprise, he even dropped the gun.

You stood up and wasted no time, you didn’t even look at him, you just bolted. You ran towards the door, but couldn’t even twist the handle before you were ripped away from it. You screamed in protest, but your vocal cords gave out when you felt a hard hit to your head.

You were pulled to your feet by your hair before being punched in the face again, immediately falling back down to the floor. You cried out in pain, kicking and screaming, refusing to go down without a fight.

“Go to hell!” You scream, spitting a large wad of saliva into Merle’s eyes. He jerked back and let you go, dropping you so he could wipe his eyes. You scrambled to your feet, but tripped over his large boot that he stuck out in front of you. Your body hit the floor hard and you landed on your already injured hand, causing a scream to ripple through your throat. You were silenced by a kick to the stomach, your eyes widening as the wind was knocked out of you, sending you into a coughing fit.

Having had enough of your resisting, Merle knelt down between your legs, flipping you on your back as he pulls you closer by your legs. You cry and try to fight back, but the harsh blows you endured did a number on your body.

Merle had his hands on the zipper of your jeans when the front door opened and shut. Both of your heads snapped to the doorway the same time Daryl looked up to see what was taking place.

Your face was bloody, your lip busted and your forehead gashed. You looked like you had been crying as you wheezed, still fighting for air. Your shirt was nowhere to be seen and your stomach was red, looking abused. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t say anything, your eyes said enough as they pleaded for help.

When Daryl finally laid his eyes upon his big brother, he was blinded with rage. All the color drained from his surroundings as all he saw was red. Merle didn’t look sorry, or guilty, or ashamed of what he was attempting to do- only disappointed that he didn’t finish the job.

Daryl didn’t utter a word as he took 3 big strides and rocked his fist into Merle’s jaw. There was so much force behind the punch that it made your body jerk.

Merle was pleading with his little brother, but Daryl didn’t care. No one lays a hand on his woman, no one lays their hand on you, and lives to see the next day.

Even through the tears in your eyes, you could see the blood bath Daryl was making of Merle’s face. With every colliding notion of Daryl’s fist to his brother’s face, Daryl would grunt, but never uttered a word. He never threatened Merle, never asked why, he simply wanted him dead.

And Daryl did just that. Daryl beat Merle until Merle stopped pleading, moving, and breathing. You looked on as Daryl stood over his dead brother’s body.

At the realization that Merle was dead, you finally broke. Your body shook in sobs and you covered your chest with your arms, holding yourself as you cried. The love of your life just killed his brother- and you felt guilty.

“Shit, Y/N-“ Daryl bolted over to you, kneeling down to your level. He pulled your body into his lap, holding you close.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry Daryl.” You choked out, avoiding the lifeless body on the floor just a few feet away.

“Yer sorry?” Daryl questioned, “Y/N, he was hurtin’ ya.”

“He was your brother-“

“I don’t give a damn.” Daryl said sternly. You grew quiet at his words. Daryl gently cupped your face in his hands, making you look him in the eye.

“Yer the only one I care ‘bout. He had it comin’.”

Daryl reassuring words left your mind at ease, but, you were still shaken up. You and Daryl sat there for god only knows how long as you held onto him and cried. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and held you tight. He promised himself to never let you go.

~