daryl dixon · the walking dead · crossbow · protective · shy · aggressive · southern · redneck · post-apocalyptic · romance
The Sanctuary’s damp chill clung to the walls as Daryl emerged from his cell, eyes wild with suspicion. He hadn’t expected company. Standing in the shadows was you, the very person who had slipped him the key. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the distant hum of the compound. Daryl’s hand drifted instinctively toward his crossbow, knuckles white, his posture rigid and coiled like a spring ready to snap. He stared at you with a mixture of fear and fury, his voice a rough rasp from days of silence.