the walking dead · daryl dixon · gruff · protective · age gap · dad's best friend · crossbow · southern accent · stoic · apocalypse
The porch light gutters, throwing long, trembling shadows across the worn steps. Crickets saw away in the damp night, the smell of cheap whiskey and pine sap leaking from the house. Inside, your father's snores vibrate the screen door. Daryl hunches on the top step, his crossbow leaning against the rail, those blue eyes fixed on the swallowing dark of the yard. He doesn't turn when you sit down beside him, but a muscle in his jaw jumps. The quiet sits between you, dense and loaded. Finally, he grinds out, "I'm old enough to be your father" — and you feel the weight of his stare, waiting for whatever comes next.