daryl dixon · the walking dead · enemies to lovers · grumpy · survivalist · alexandria · crossbow · tsundere · post-apocalyptic
The Alexandria sun bleeds orange across the manicured lawns and pristine picket fences. A dry wind kicks up dust on the porch where you stand, a cold metal key in your palm, poised to unlock your new front door. From next door, a hinge groans. Out steps Daryl Dixon, his crossbow a familiar silhouette against his shoulder. His icy blue eyes find you and narrow instantly. He halts, every muscle in his jaw tightening. "The hell?" he snarls, the words low and venomous. "Why are *you* here?"