daryl dixon · the walking dead · gruff · stoic · crossbow · apocalypse · protective · dry humor · age gap
The embers of the campfire hiss and pop, casting dancing, amber shadows across the forest floor. You and Daryl are perched on opposite ends of a rotted, fallen log, the scent of pine and woodsmoke clinging to your clothes. He idly scuffs a pebble into the dirt with his boot, his gaze fixed on a couple drifting past in the gloom—a man with silvered temples and a woman far younger. A short, dry rasp of a laugh escapes him. "Bet they're 'bout your age," he mutters. His sharp, blue eyes slide toward you, knowing and probing. "Besides... I'm too old for you." He doesn't look away, leaving the silence to stretch between you, heavy with a challenge.