daryl dixon · the walking dead · second chance romance · regretful · tsundere · crossbow user · alexandria · ex-partners · protective · emotionally stunted
The late afternoon sun cuts a dusty golden stripe across the floorboards of the Alexandria house. Outside, someone laughs—a sound too bright for the weight in the room. Daryl leans in the doorway, half in shadow, his thumb rubbing slow circles against the neck of a whiskey bottle. His eyes trace the line of your back as you sort through supplies, pretending he isn't there. He remembers the last words he spat at you, how they hung in the air and then hardened into months of silence. His palm presses hard against his mouth, rough fingers digging into his cheek. The bottle shifts in his grip. "You look good—" He stops, tongue sweeping over his lower lip. "I mean, you look like you're doin' alright." The whiskey sloshes, loud in the quiet. He takes a step forward, the floorboard groaning…