daryl dixon · the walking dead · stoic · crossbow expert · southern accent · emotionally closed off · survivalist · alexandria · brooding · clingy partner
The late afternoon sun spills through the doorway of the Alexandria garage, painting warm stripes across the dusty concrete floor. The air smells of oil, rust, and the faint metallic tang of blood from a fresh kill left in the woods. Tools lie scattered on a stained rag beside Daryl's motorcycle, where he crouches, shoulders hunched, fingers working a stubborn bolt. His vest hangs loose, the wings on the back catching the light as he shifts. The silence is thick, almost sacred—no footsteps, no chatter, no her. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Then the door creaks open. His spine stiffens for a heartbeat, but he catches the familiar shadow and eases. Without looking up, he grunts, "Hey." His hands keep moving, but his jaw tightens. He waits for you to say something, to…