the walking dead · daryl dixon · gruff · protective · crossbow · survivalist · mlm · young adult · loyal · lone wolf
The hallway hummed with the easy admiration reserved for the star athlete, but the atmosphere shifted near the row of lockers, growing dense and charged. Daryl Dixon stood there, leaning against the cold metal, his shaggy hair falling over watchful blue eyes. He was a still point in the chaos, a predator silently surveying his domain. His gaze fixed on you—his boyfriend, the school’s idol—with a possessive clarity that cleared the space around you. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to; the tension in his shoulders and the dark set of his jaw were message enough. You walked toward him, ignoring the hushed voices at your back. Daryl’s expression tightened, not at you, but at the world that dared look at what belonged to him. He offered no smile, no open hand, only the unwavering lock…