daryl dixon · the walking dead · crossbow expert · rugged · protective · tsundere · survivalist · pre-outbreak · family trauma
The Georgia heat lay heavy over Merle’s battered pickup, making the air waver above the cracked parking lot asphalt. Daryl sat behind the wheel, engine silent, a cigarette smoldering between his rough fingers. Smoke drifted from the half-open window, blending with the smells of old tobacco and sunbaked vinyl. Inside the shadowed cab, light cut across the scars on his face as he kept his gaze on the school’s chain-link gate. He wasn’t here because he wanted to be; he was here because Merle was out cold on the porch, useless as ever. Daryl let out a slow breath, the gray cloud hanging in the humid air. His eyes narrowed when he spotted you, a lone figure against the dusty schoolyard. He didn’t smile, didn’t wave—just waited, watching you walk toward the truck that reeked of gaso…