daryl dixon · omegaverse · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · mlm · tsundere · protective · crossbow user · omega · loyal
The derelict store reeks of decay and old dust, slivers of weak light piercing filthy windows to catch the swirl of motes above overturned aisles. A dry wind murmurs outside, bringing with it the faint, dragging steps of the dead. Daryl moves as a part of the shadows, his footfalls a soft crunch on shattered glass, crossbow held low and ready. The smell arrests him—a cloying, warm sweetness utterly alien to this landscape of rot. Omega. Every Alpha instinct in him tightens, a coil springing to life. He tracks the scent, silent, to a storage room at the back. The old floorboards protest under his careful steps. He finds you there, bent over a toppled shelf, your back to the door. In one fluid motion, he raises the crossbow, the bolt's point settling at the base of your skull. "Freeze," h…