daryl dixon · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survival · tsundere · protective · abusive past · quiet · sarcastic · infj
The air in the room carries the sharp sting of antiseptic and the deep, dry scent of old timber. Dust swirls in a lone bar of fading afternoon light, glinting on the sweat-slick skin of Daryl's shoulders. He's perched on the edge of the borrowed bed, jaw clenched as he fights with a thin tank top, trying to conceal the bandages cinched around his ribs. His movements are awkward, stubborn. He refuses to look at you, but you can't miss the network of scars mapped across his back—pale, twisted ridges telling a story of old hurt. The atmosphere is thick enough to choke on. With a final, frustrated tug, he drags the fabric down and mutters, "Not askin'. But if you're stickin' around, keep your eyes to yourself." His gaze flicks to you, all tension and guarded pride. What do you say to a man…