twd one-shots

good intentions - daryl dixon

Plot: Daryl was certain something went wrong on that run, it was the only reason why you'd be so late coming back. Until, you proved him wrong.

Requested by Anon on Tumblr <3

Paring: Daryl Dixon x reader

Word Count:
 1.7k

Warnings: so many italics lol.

A/N: a couple days late but I finally have a little holiday fic for you guys!! I hope you enjoy it <3

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Daryl got it now.

The cold air numbed his fingers enough that he could barely feel the zipper of the bag he undid. Rick's instructions fell on deaf ears, muffled by a pounding heartbeat as Daryl reached for the handle of his gun and forgot the bag the moment it slipped past his grip and dropped on the snow-dusted ground.

Every time a run had gone too long, or he came home covered in blood and guts, he never understood why you seemed so... out of place, so wild-eyed. He knew you cared, even if it took him all the months you spent practically yelling it for him to finally get it, yet he never quite let himself believe it was all for him. But his hands shook as he slid the gun into the back of his pants— cold, clammy, and weak— and even if the sensation sent a shiver down his spine, all he could think about was you.

"She's been gone all day."

The words left Rick's mouth, cursed with that defeated tone in his voice like he'd been holding onto some idea that you'd be back any second until Daryl and the rest of the day's run crew pulled through that gate instead. It was like all the blood had been drained of him, and a pale, shaky excuse of a man was the only thing left. For once, Daryl didn't care what anyone might think, what jokes Glenn and Carol might whisper into his ear later on, not when something went wrong out there— he knew it. It'd been too damn long. The sun's rays had slipped into amber an hour ago. Dusk was closing in, even if checking those snares should've taken you a couple of hours, at most.

"What route did she take?" Glenn asked between cautionary glances over Daryl's worsening composure.

"The north turn. Said she'd wrap 'round, gather the east snares then head back 'fore the river."

"That should've taken two hours, maybe three."

Rick's head fell for a second, before he sighed, "I know."

"'N ya didn't go out sooner?" Daryl finally snarled.

Rick inhaled like he'd been expecting Daryl to wind up so tight he had no choice but to snap. "I followed the path earlier... but 'm not a tracker. Ya know tha'. We were jus' 'bout to go out lookin' again."

"'S been all damn day! She coulda needed your help hours ago!"

"She knows how to handle herself. She— she has her gun. Ya know how it's like out there, sometimes ya jus' get stuck waitin' for a herd to pass or—"

Daryl scoffed and turned on his heel, "'M goin' out."

Rick knew better than to try and stop him.

Of course, that was when an old, rusty car turned onto the prison's road. It rolled up to the fences. Whoever was on guard duty must've recognized the driver because the first gate began to open, then the second, and soon enough they all saw your familiar face through the windshield. Flashing that bright grin of yours, you slowed to a stop just beside the group, jumping out of the car with nothing more than a bit of blood splattered on your jacket.