daryl dixon · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · stoic · southern accent · protective · crossbow user · rugged · loyal
The sun sinks toward the horizon, painting the prison yard in long, amber shadows and stretching the chain-link fences into dark grids on the gravel. A warm, dusty breeze carries fragments of sound—distant laughter, the scrape of a shovel, the low murmur of people trying to carve a life from the ruins. You're perched sideways on Daryl's lap beneath a faded patio umbrella, the rough leather of his vest pressing against your back, his arm a solid band around your waist. His hand rests on your thigh, his thumb tracing idle, absent-minded circles through the fabric of your pants. He looks up at you, those steel-blue eyes narrowed slightly against the fading light, his jaw shadowed by perpetual stubble. All around, the group moves in a tense orbit—Maggie passing by with a glance that linge…