Daryl Dixon x Reader One-shots

"I've had worse scratches from my sister's kitten."

*Set between season 3 and season 4*

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"Can I slide in a small request?" Michonne said quietly, her face stern. You turned to look at her, eyebrows furrowed.

"What is it?"

A moment of hesitation passed before Michonne finally spoke, the seriousness of her voice making you slightly nervous.

"Snickers. Kit-Kat. Butterfinger, whatever you can find. Please. I'm begging you." Desperation filled her voice as if her life depended on her single request for a candy bar. A laugh bubbled from your lips as you shook your head. 

"I'll try my best, though I can't guarantee its freshness," you stated as you made a mental note to look for any form of chocolate on your supply run.

"As long as it has sugar and has more than a hundred calories, I don't care if it's decades old," Michonne retorted and offered you a small smile.

"Be safe," she instructed finally before turning away from you.

Daryl leaned against the car with arms crossed, waiting patiently for you. Tyreese already had the engine running, and soon the three of you were exiting the prison grounds. The sun was fresh and sharp having just risen, and the blinding golden rays streamed through the windows. From the backseat, you watched as golden strips of light cut across Daryl's skin, almost making him glow. He looked beautiful. He absentmindedly chewed on a fingernail while he and Tyreese exchanged quiet conversation.

An aura of tiredness filled the car. It was early, and runs weren't a fun part of surviving - though they were necessary. The prison ran out of food quickly despite the rationing, so scavenging for supplies became more frequent. Most of the time it was you and Daryl out hunting for food. The two of you worked exceptionally well together - your bubbly yet sarcastic disposition paired well with his hostility and dryness, and you found yourself enjoying time with Daryl. He was cold and stern, but beneath the tough exterior was a heart of gold. You'd clearly seen that throughout the months. This was occasionally reinforced by meaningful conversations shared between the two of you on late night watches, or laying beside a fire in the woods. He was a good person.

"Y/n, you still awake?" Tyreese said loudly, making you wince. 

"Am now, asshole," you joked with a small chuckle, and Daryl glanced at you out the corner of his eye, his lip tugged up at the corner.

After a few more minutes, the entered into a desolate town and the three of you stepped out, weapons ready. Everything looked ransacked. Windows were smashed in, and walls were covered in graffiti. The end is here. Repent and get saved. They're coming. We're all dead. You're dead.

A small chill ran down your spine, and the two men also seemed unsettled by the writing on the wall. It was hard to get used to things like that. It added to the feeling of impending doom that always seem to loom at the back of everyone's minds. Walkers snarled in the distance. None of them seemed nearby, but everyone knew it was best to get in and get out before they became a problem.

"There," Tyreese pointed out a large building with a faded sign - what once was presumably a Walmart. Quickening up the pace, you headed into the building.

Daryl stepped protectively in front of you, crossbow raised. He scanned the massive room before walking forward towards the shelves.

"Let's split up," you suggested in a whisper. The large man nodded before Daryl interjected.

"No, no way. Ya stick with me," he instructed, making you roll your eyes despite the warmth that filled your heart.

"I can fight. It'll be quicker if we split up," you motioned to your gun and knife.