#daryl & reader

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

THE THIRD DIXON ⋆ DD !

pairing. daryl dixon & little sister! reader

era. season 10

wordcount. 1041

summary. it had been too long since you've seen your older brother, and if he was going to be honest, he thought you were dead.

warnings. mentions of death, arguments, fluff, and angst.

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | i was mentioned in a post by @morgan-wolf that gave me some prompts that they had come up with, and i figured why not do a platonic fanfic? i had a lot of fun making this and thank you for the mention! :] it's always so refreshing to write something platonic omg.

— links .ᐟ masterlist | ao3

You had honestly thought you would never see your older brother, Daryl, ever again. It just didn’t seem possible; with the lengths you’d traveled on foot to the people you’ve lost, the idea of him being alive was almost too good to be true.

You guys had been separated from each other ever since you were fifteen. It was your fault really, but the argument you had between Merle & Daryl was considered a big deal at the time, but now that you’re almost twenty-six, it was almost laughable.

You had gone out drinking with some friends and hadn’t come home until the next night, and Daryl was almost losing his mind worrying about you.

You were a complete accident, your parents hadn’t cared about you since you were born, and the caretaking was left up to Daryl & Merle, but of course, Merle can’t take responsibility for anything, so Daryl was the one that took care of you most of the time.

Of course, with the pressures of teenage hormones and the fact that there was nothing to do in your small town, you would eventually give in to the mischief of your friends. Daryl had dreaded the day you grew up truly, and that night was an eye opener for him, and he had no idea how to take it.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?!” Daryl asked angrily. He stood behind one of the dining room chairs, his hands having a death grip on the back of it.

“I was thinkin’ that I wanted to go and hangout with my friends without you on my back!” You replied back in irritation. Merle chimed in from the couch he was sitting on, “Don’t act like we didn’t do that when we were her age, little brother.” He laughed to himself before taking a swig of his beer. 

“Shut up man!” He growled.

“You’re not my fucking dad,” You bit. “So I don’t even know why you fucking care.”

His face morphed into something nasty. “Ya think I wanted to take care of ya?” He began to slowly approach you. “Yer jus’ some fuckin’ burden that I was stuck with.” His finger jabbed into your shoulder.

A sickening feeling settled in your stomach as you bit back tears; his words hurt worse than you thought they would, and without thinking you said, “Fuck you, Daryl.” As you shoved him away from you and stormed out of the front door.

Daryl went to move when Merle piped up from the couch once more.

“Let ‘er go. She’ll be back, jus’ needs some time to cool off.”

Daryl wished that he hadn’t listened to him.

For the next ten years, you were on your own, and you had spent the first five holding on to hope that the only family you had managed to survive.

Even though you hated Merle, he was blood, at least that’s what he had said - which you since learned was a shitty manipulation tactic.

You didn’t mean what you had said to Daryl though, you didn’t have the right to say what you did to him, and maybe both of you were in the wrong; most nights when you were supposed to be sleeping, you’d stare up at the stars, your head swimming with questions.

Now, you’ve stopped wondering, just opting to live and save the people that were alive.

You were wandering back to your camp when you stopped in your tracks, slowly drawing your bow and quiver as you watched a man surveying your makeshift camp in the woods.

“Drop your weapons.” You said lowly. 

You could see his back muscles tense under his angel jacket, your eyes falling on the dog that was waiting for its owner's command. Your eyes softened, you hadn’t seen a dog in so long you’ve almost forgotten what they looked like.

“No one’s gotta get hurt.” You heard him say. “You’re right, so drop your shit,” You pulled tighter on the string. “I won’t ask you again.” He froze for a second before quickly spinning around, his crossbow brought up and ready to shoot.

Your tense body deflated at the sight of Daryl.

“D?” You asked in disbelief. 

Those same tears pricked at the ducts in your eyes caused you to lower your bow, becoming completely defenseless. You threw your arms around him and began to sob, clinging onto him as you could barely say a coherent sentence. Years of grief and loss completely melted from your body, as that hole in your heart had finally begun to heal.

He couldn’t believe you were still alive; all hope had died off with you the night that you disappeared. He had no idea if you had found a safe zone or if you were bitten. He desperately searched for you until Merle forced him to move, where they inevitably found the quarry and its people.

“God,” You say as you pull away from him. “You look like shit, old man.” You attempted to joke to cover up your embarrassment of showing your vulnerability. “Ya don’ look any better, brat.” He grumbled light-heartedly. 

You two had begun to walk together, a couple of giggles escaping your lips as Daryl’s dog danced around your legs once he learned you weren’t a threat.

“So, where have you been?” You asked. He just shrugs, “I’ve been around.” You nodded in understanding. “Same here. I can’t even tell you where I’ve gone.” You snorted in amusement. There was another beat of silence before you spoke again. 

“Where’s Merle?”

He nibbled on the skin of his lower lip nervously.

“He uh- he didn’t make it.” His voice almost sounded sad. “Oh.” You didn’t know how to feel about hearing about the eldests’ death. A part of you was sad, but the other part of you was also in disbelief, almost like you didn’t believe him. “How did he die?” 

“Doin’ somethin’ stupid but kinda… heroic?” 

“I would have never expected that.” 

“Me neither.” He said with his classic scoff.

Despite losing one brother, you were grateful that you had the other, and if you were going to be honest, he was your favorite. Your conversations flowed as if you hadn’t had to pick up where you left off.

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[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

OKAYYY THATS GREAT :D

sooo this is coming straight from my daydreaming lmao, but like imagine daryl and reader have a father-daughter relationship EXCEPT they got separated a bit before Negan arrives (maybe she left at the same time as Carol and Morgan or idk) and when he goes to the Hilltop, not only does he find Carol, but he finds the reader too and it’s just like a cute family reunion????

BEYOND THE ASHES ⋆ DD !

pairing. daryl dixon & teenage!reader

era. Season 7

wordcount. 1490

summary. after finding a new family, it was ripped away from you as fast as it came.

warnings. mentions of the saviors, negan is his own warning, season 7 spoiler warning, guns, emotional reunions, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort.

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | it feels like i haven't written anything in so long omg, but i had this in my drafts and already halfway written, so i figured i'd just finish it and post it so you guys don't hungry LMFAO, even though this is another platonic!daryl fanfic.

— links .ᐟ masterlist | ao3

You were back to square one.

You don’t remember the last time that you had seen your found family, or your caretaker, Daryl, not ever since the prison fell. You weren’t as lucky as the others that may have broken off into groups.

You were all alone, forced to fend for yourself once again.

It felt like back in the beginning, when Daryl had found your makeshift camp. You had set up in an abandoned store, which led to him getting held at gunpoint by a child no older than thirteen.

“Aye kid, there ain’t no need for trouble.” The redneck said with his hands raised.

“You’re right, there doesn’t need to be,” You turned off the safety of the gun, keeping it steadily pointed up at his head. “So, get the fuck out of here.”

Well, your foul mouth had certainly caught him off guard.

He allowed his eyes to sweep along the empty shelves in front of him, taking in the decrepit conditions that he could only assume wasn’t a pleasant place to live in.

He had slowly begun to turn around and his gut was twisted at the sight of you. You had dirt and blood spattered all over your raggedy clothes that were tattered, littered throughout with sizeable holes. It didn’t matter that you had a gun pointed at him, there was something inside him – something fatherly – that wouldn’t allow him to leave a child behind, let alone someone as young as you.

“You alone?” He dared to ask. “What does it matter?” You bit back coldly. “I jus’ have a hard time believin’ you been alive this long without someone takin’ care of ya.” You scoffed, his seemingly demeaning question caused your finger to twitch against the gun, the trigger to be more precise.

“Where are your parents?” There was something that passed in your eyes, equivalent to sadness, grief, and irritation.

“They’re dead.” You had forced yourself to say, even though deep inside of you, you were still coping with the fact that you had lost your parents just two months before now.

There were so many things that you had to do on your own, like live alone and grow accustomed to being the one that used the gun, which was more your mother and father’s department.

“M'sorry to hear that.” He said sincerely, his voice softening. The random act of empathy caused the tension in your shoulders to release, but you still eyed him cautiously.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, just get whatever you’re going to get and go.” You weren’t going to lie; your arms were starting to hurt. “I know this is going’ta sound strange, but I got a group; men, women, children, a pregnant woman.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Who would be dumb enough to get pregnant during an apocalypse?” You couldn’t help but snort, “To me, that sounds like dead weight.”

“Ain’t all that bad. ‘Beats stayin’ in a place that smells like shit.” You laughed a bit at his words, which caused a grin to tug at the corner of his lips. “It does smell like shit.” You agreed.

There were a lot of things that you had grown to regret at such a young age but giving Daryl the benefit of the doubt was never one of them.

You should’ve thanked him, you supposed, to have allowed you to have a second chance at life. It wasn’t about survival anymore, even after you found the prison, after Lori died, after you had to fight the Governor for it. It seemed like life was going well… a little too well.

You knew that the Governor was out there somewhere, just waiting to enact his revenge, but even as that fear constantly breathed down your neck, you couldn’t find it within yourself to dwell on it. Maybe you should’ve, maybe if you had, you would still have your family… your dad.

Yes, you knew Daryl wasn’t your dad, but he was damn near the closest thing you’ve had to one in a long time.

He would always make sure you had a chance to be a kid, that he supplied you with whatever you wanted, either that be; comic books, actual books, board games, even going as far as to give you a fancy journal that you could “write all your teenager thoughts in or whatever.” You laughed at it then, but as you walked life alone once again, it became the only company you had, just you and your thoughts.

He would make sure that you had eaten, gotten enough sleep, helping you hunt and identify mushrooms and shit that you had laughed at then, which grew to be beneficial now. In a way, you felt like Daryl knew the Governor would strike once again, too.

Neither of you had never said you loved one another, but there was no need to verbalize it, not when his and your actions spoke louder than words.

You had lost count of the days sense then, but it may have been a year? Maybe a year and half since you had lost everything. Your body had shown signs of change, that your hair had grown longer, and you were taller, much more mature looking.

It wasn’t until you had met a man by the name of Morgan, who happened to stumble across you walking amongst the streets, not a clue of where you were going.

That’s what your days had dwindled down too recently, just walking, not sure of where you were going as you fought off the deep sadness in your heart. He had told you of a settlement he knew of that he could take you, one that was practically a utopia, ruled by a man named King Ezekiel.

You couldn’t believe it, but you didn’t have it in you to reject his request, just desperate to find a place to rest.

That’s when you found Carol, the woman living in a home a little while away. You had seen her walking out of what seemed to be an auditorium, even though it was referred to as Ezekiel’s throne room.

You had practically thrown yourself onto the woman when you saw her, crumbling in her arms as she still tried to get over the shock of you being alive. She ran her fingers through your hair with tears in her eyes as she studied you; you looked so much older, she wasn’t going to lie and say that it hadn’t freaked her out a little bit.

She had given you a rundown about the things that were happening as she allowed you to hunker down in her home, saying that she didn’t quite trust the Kingdom just yet to have you staying in one of the houses there.

You were told that the others were fine despite being under the new rule of a man named Negan who had killed Glenn and a man named Abraham. You were devastated to hear about Glenn, and what added icing on the shit cake you were being served, Daryl had been taken and no one knew if he was dead or alive.

It was safe to say you tried to silence your cries as you rested on her couch, knowing that the woman was trying to sleep in the next room over.

Earlier the next day, Ezekiel had visited the both of you, much to the older woman’s irritation, so when another knock was delivered to the door, Carol sent you a look, one that told you that it was your turn to open the door.

Your breath stopped, your heart dropping as you felt your knees grow weak. There Daryl stood, looking absolutely broken and worn down, the bags under his eyes a lot more apparent than usual as his own eyes widened.

“(y/n)?” He called out your name in disbelief. “Daryl!” You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder as you cried.

“Where- how- why?” He stuttered through his words. “I- I’ve been on my own… but- how are you here? I thought Negan had taken you.” He shuddered at the reminder. “He did but I got out.”

You had all but dragged him inside where Carol shared a tearful embrace with him as well. Carol left for the kitchen to make the three of you dinner, knowing that Daryl was undoubtedly hungry after living in the conditions that he was in for the past few days.

You and Daryl were sitting on the couch, with your legs pulled up to your chest, your caregiver’s eyes locked on the fire that burned brightly.

“Can’t believe how grown ya are.” Daryl remarked next to you.

“Remember when you were yea’high pointin’ a gun at my face.” You just snorted, “I’m not even going to lie, you look like shit.” You teased him back. He just scoffed and elbowed you light-heartedly.

“Thanks kid.” He said fondly, ruffling your hair.

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[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

idk if you’re comfortable with writing daryl having a love interest that is someone other than reader, but we’ve all seen the way daryl smiles when he’s around connie (i absolutely love them together oml) and i can’t stop thinking about reader (daryl’s adopted child) teasing him for the way his whole face lights up at the sight of her-

connie x daryl dixon // wc: 588.

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | as much as i write x reader daryl fics, i absolutely love him and connie together and i'm fully convinced that they should've been canon!

You had never seen Daryl act the way he does around Connie with any other woman, and he's come across many of them in his lifetime, even during the apocalypse.

You knew the extent of his love, how familial he was, even going as far as taking you in when he had discovered you alone all those years ago, which felt like a lifetime ago.

As his daughter (technically), you had spent a lot of time around him, and as much as he wanted to keep you protected, he had you right next to him while he made important decisions, like his confidant.

So, it was easy to read his body language, the expressions on his face, and the look he gets in his eyes, the one that was soft, but it seemed as though there was a new one, one that was only reserved for Connie.

Maybe he hadn’t noticed that he was doing it, that any stern and grumpiness would melt away when she approached him, whipping out her trusty notepad in order to converse with him.

She didn’t know it, but many nights in your shared home, he’d have his nose buried in an American Sign Language book, constantly practicing the gestures and combinations, many of those he’d do with hands instead of trying to understand them mentally.

You didn’t want to give your old man too much shit for it, because you were happy for him, and you liked Connie, she was sweet, caring, and confident.

You could see how her, and your dad’s personalities could work together so well, you just wish he’d pull his head out of his ass to see it.

You knew he hadn’t noticed how many accommodations he made for her, like allowing her to hug him, trusting her to take care of dog, even to come and back him up whenever he needed it, hell, he barely smiled at anyone, but it was like he couldn’t help himself when she’d come around.

You’d smirk, shooting him a look from out of the corner of your eye before focusing back on your task at hand, but you knew his face was red with embarrassment at the fact that he’d been caught, especially by his own daughter, who – in his mind – he’d have to be strong for, when in reality you could care less about any of that gender role nonsense.

It was at the Commonwealth where you caught his eyes trailing Connie leaving after Kelly translated that she was once a reporter. There was fondness in his eyes, a smile on his lips as he watched her walk away.

“Real smooth, pops.” You said teasingly as you leaned up against one of the posts of the stands with your arms crossed.

“Shut up.” He said lightheartedly as red painted his aged cheeks.

“No need to be bashful, you guys would look cute together.” You watched his eyes widen.

“It ain’t like that.” He denied, even though his silent affections spoke otherwise.

“Oh, I’m sure it isn’t.” You said knowingly. “You should ask her to dance, I don’t think she’d say no,” You walked up to him in order to pat his shoulder lovingly, “You clean up good. You could be the beast to her beauty.” You added with a shit eating grin on your face.

You could hear him scoff a bit before a small shove was delivered to the back of your shoulder, sending you tumbling slightly, which only made you laugh and send him a backhanded wave.

© ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused .ᐟ

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

OR another idea: don’t ask me how that happened, but merle has a child (and ofc it’s reader) but since he doesn’t really take care of her - are we surprised? - daryl does and he sees her as her own daughter

(tbh idk how to feel about this one but.. yeah :D)

NEW AGE ⋆ DD !

💿 now playing: Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

pairing. daryl dixon & neice!reader

era. season 1

wordcount. 1618

summary. merle didn't even want you in the first place, but with the state having been at your neck before the world ended, it looks like your stuck with your bigot father and quiet uncle.

warnings. shane is a warning within itself, so is merle, mentions of drugs, mentions of prostitution, mentions of heroin usage, mentions of drinking, smoking, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, merle is a dead beat but fuck him anyway we don't care, uncle daryl to the rescue, daryl dixon fluff, angst, arguing, teenage hormones.

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | thank you anon so much for both of your requests that you've sent! this is 1/2 so!! and be surer if your ideas next time, because this was a lovely write, and i honestly enjoyed writing it! since they're still related in some way, i tried to make the character the same as them loosely, mostly in personality and such!

— links .ᐟ masterlist | ao3

It was safe to say you hated everyone.

Maybe it was grungy teenage hormones, or the fact that you were required by the state to live with your shitty dad and your uncle.

Merle knew that you existed, but he never bothered to even try and reach out to your mom or even offer any help, let alone put his name on your birth certificate.

You were glad that you didn’t uphold the Dixon name, because for the short three months that you lived with the brothers, they brought you nothing but disappointment. Your dad a loudmouthed, sexist, racist, drug addicted pig; your uncle, a closed off and reserved man that could never seem to think for himself, always following Merle around like a lost puppy.

It was safe to say you haven’t had the easiest childhood, with your mom having been a prostitute, it was easy for her to fall into habits such as alcoholism and drugs. Merle really wasn’t picky with the women he had sex with, and that’s what set you up for failure before you were even born.

Your home was a little run-down trailer that your mother couldn’t even be bothered to try and clean up, leaving out heroin needles, beer cans, food wrappers, and the overflowing ash tray on your cluttered coffee table across from the miniature sofa – that was your makeshift bed because she didn’t want to give up the queen size bed. By the time you reached high school you were skipping class and stealing your mother’s cigarettes.

Due to her neglect and the fact that you hadn’t attended school since your freshman year, the corrupt justice system sent you off to your closest relative, and that was your dad. They knew he was no good, having been in and out of many prisons and well acquainted with the cops around town, but it didn’t seem to make a difference, they just wanted you off their hands.

It wasn’t like he greeted you with open arms either, often locking you out of the townhouse all three of you lived in simply because he forgot you existed.

When the world ended, you hadn’t been home in what had seemed like forever, often disappearing to God knows just to forget about the world around you.

You hadn’t left your spot at the train tracks just meters away from your townhouse that was separated by a mere tree line, and much to your surprise, Daryl had been the one to come and snatch you up, telling you something along the lines of “Get yer ass up, girl. We gotta go.” You followed begrudgingly of course, rather dying wherever you were at than having to be forced to be near your piece of shit father.

The night that you had all left Atlanta together, you watched as planes flew over your heads, bombing what was left of the city.

Life had been mundane since finding the quarry and being hesitantly taken in by its inhabitants.

You were sitting at the campfire that was dimming, many were already sleeping, and you had no idea if the Dixons were too since both men wanted to set up their tents away from all the others. You really didn’t want to make the walk through the woods, unaware of what might be hiding within the shadows, and you didn’t have the energy to try and kill any of those bastards.

Reaching in your coat pocket, you were frustrated to find that you only had three cigarettes left. Sighing, you took one out and leant forward, lighting it with the dying flames that barely poked out from under the charred wood. You breathed in the fumes, releasing it and allowing your body to relax into the fold out chair.

“You shouldn’ be smokin’ that shit.” You heard a voice sound from behind you. You only rolled your eyes as he took a seat on another folded out chair next to you. You took another hit of the cancerous stick. “Don’t be a prude, Uncle Daryl.” You said with a smirk. As you spoke, you blew the smoke out of your mouth, the clouds causing your voice to sound foggy.

“Ya heard me.” You heard him say before he plucked the thing out from between your fingers and threw it in the pit. “What the fuck?!”

You said angrily, “I’m on my last pack. Fucking dick.” You mumbled the last part to yourself, but he heard it. “I’m jus’ tryna look out for ya. No need for ya to be a little asshole.” He bit back at you with narrowed eyes.

“What’s the point in looking out for me now? You sure as shit didn’t when the world was up and moving. No need to try and take care of me just because the dead are walking. Either way, I’m gonna die, either getting the skin ripped off my bones or lung cancer.” You got up as you glared at him.

“You don’t owe me shit, Daryl. Just leave me alone.”

Yes, you were being too hard on him, but there was a part of you that was bitter, that felt left behind by the world, like you didn’t deserve to be there in the first place. Little did you know, that’s exactly how Daryl felt too.

You had woken up sweaty, the Georgian heat bleeding through the thin walls of your tent. The area around you was quiet as you got up, walking over to the men’s tent and snatching back the tent flap only to find it empty. You had no idea where your dad or uncle was. You paid no mind to their absence as you wadded through the woods to see that there was barely anyone at the heart of the camp.

“Good afternoon sleepy head.” Carol greeted you sweetly. She was brushing through her little girl’s hair, braiding it between her nimble fingers.

If there was one person you couldn’t bring yourself to be rude to despite your distaste for many of those around you, it was Carol. You had recognized that she had already been through enough, with her abusive husband breathing down her and her daughter’s neck.

“You can’t jus’ keep sleepin’,” You Shane piped up. “Ya gotta pull your weight around here just like everyone else.” You huffed. “I just woke up man, get off my dick.” You said crudely, taking the plate of cooked squirrel that Carol had saved just for you. That seemed to piss the ex-cop off because he slapped the plate out of your hand, getting in your face as he glared down at you.

“Listen here, Dixon. Yer the oldest of any of the kids here, you don’t jus’ get a free pass ‘cause yer dad and uncle does the huntin.’” You glared up at him. “First of all, I ain’t no Dixon.” You said with a clenched jaw, a bit of your southern accent spilling out from between your lips.

“Secondly, if you mean doing laundry or cooking while the men do the killing and the women do the chores, then no chance in hell.” Your words were laced with venom, the battle for dominance between you and the older man evident as he attempted to stare you down. “Well, I for one don’t care what you think.” He all but growled.

“Seems like agree on something.” You spat.

“Aye!” You heard Daryl yell as he emerged from the woods. “The hell’s goin’ ‘ere?” He questioned; his eyes trained on Shane. “Dealin’ with your niece’s smart mouth that’s what.” You just scoffed. “Oh please. You were acting like a douchebag.” He stepped closer to you, causing you to lean back. “You wanna say that again?”

Before things could take a turn for the worse, you felt Daryl’s hand land on your forearm to tug you away from the man. You let him, despite the overwhelming need to knock Shane silly, your fists twitching at your sides and your irises burned with the flames of a thousand suns.

“I got ‘er. C’mon.” You heard your uncle say softly.

He led you back your camp where he sat you and him down on a rouge log.

“Ya can’t be getting’ into fights with him like that.” He scolded.

“He was treating me like I was some kid he could talk down to! Hell, even knocked my fuckin’ plate out of my hand like an immature asshole!” If there was one thing Daryl was sure of, it was that you were a Dixon, no matter how badly you tried to deny it, you had their hot-headedness and all, even down to his own preference cigarette brand.

“I can make ya some more. I jus’ don’ want ya getting’ hurt ‘cause I don’t trust Shane, not one bit, and I don’ know what he’ll do. Especially if me and Merle ain’ around.”

“It’s not like Merle would try and protect me anyways. If anything, he’d thank that bastard for getting rid of me. I’ve been nothing but a burden to him no matter how hard I try to separate myself away from him, from both you.” You spoke solemnly. Usually, you never spoke like this, but Daryl’s surprisingly soft words melted you like butter.

“You don’ need to separate yerself from me ‘cause yer not a burden, even if Merle can’t see that.”

There was a part of you that wanted to believe him, to find comfort in the callous redneck, and for a moment, you do, allowing yourself to lay your head on his shoulder.

“Merle is a dick, huh?” You ask with a small, watery laugh.

“Mhm.” He hummed, even though you knew it was one of approval.

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