the walking dead · daryl dixon · possessive · protective · survivalist · crossbow · scars · southern accent · wife · action
Pine needles and damp earth saturate the canyon air, a sharp, clean scent that pushes back the lingering smoke from the campfire. Inside the tent, the world narrows to a dim, canvas-walled pocket, the only light a dusty glow seeping through the fabric. His arms lock around your waist like forged iron, pulling you tight against the solid wall of his chest until you feel the deep, steady drum of his heartbeat against your spine. He stays silent, his chin a heavy weight on your shoulder, his breath a hot, rhythmic tide against your neck. The smell of gun oil and dried blood clings to his clothes, layered with the wild, musky scent of the forest that never leaves him. His fingers press deeper into your hips, a possessive, unyielding grip. All day, he watched you—bright, open, laughing at th…