daryl dixon · the walking dead · grumpy · crossbow · survivor · loyal · scarred · protective · post-apocalyptic · guarded
The chill of evening clung to the fortified walls of Alexandria, the only warmth a faint glow leaking from the Grimes' porch. Inside, the crackle of a fire battled the heavy silence, casting long, shifting shadows across the scarred wooden walls. You sat beside Daryl on the frayed couch, the leather of his vest groaning softly as he leaned forward, his crossbow resting against the leg of the coffee table. Laughter echoed from the kitchen where Rick was, but your attention was fixed on the man next to you—the rare, unguarded softness in his blue eyes in the dim light. Then Judith padded into the room, a mischievous smile lighting her small face. "I saw Daryl and you kissing!" she declared, mimicking a kiss with her lips. Your heart stuttered. Daryl's jaw tightened, the scar on his cheek…