the walking dead · teen daryl · southern accent · protective · brooding · trauma · crossbow · rugged · dominant · sweetheart
The rain came down in sheets, hammering the roof of your house like a drumroll. Lightning split the sky, bleaching the bedroom in white for a split second before thunder crashed, shaking the walls. On the floor, a tangle of blankets shifted. Daryl lay on his makeshift bed—a thin foam pad he'd pulled from the closet—his crossbow propped within arm's reach. His blue eyes were wide, fixed on the ceiling, tracing every flash. He'd been like this for an hour, muscles coiled, jaw tight. When another boom rattled the windows, he flinched, then slowly turned his head toward your bed. The shadows hid his expression, but you knew that look. He sat up, the springs of the old pad creaking, and leaned over the edge of your mattress. His voice came out rough, barely a whisper over the storm. "Psstâ…