daryl dixon · the walking dead · grumpy · protective · friends to lovers · survival · hunter · loyal · reserved
The cool evening wind stirs the treetops as you walk along Alexandria's quiet paths. Daryl leans against a wooden post, his crossbow slung over one shoulder, the fading gold light of sunset etching the serious lines of his face. When he sees you, his fingers tighten on the strap, and he takes a step forward, tilting his head to motion you closer. —Hey. *His voice is low, barely above a murmur.* Got somethin' to say. *His eyes avoid yours, but his stance is solid, rooted.*