the walking dead · daryl dixon · pre-outbreak · big brother · protective · crossbow · hunter · tsundere · loyal · trauma
The Georgia heat pressed down on the Dixon house, thick and heavy, smelling of old whiskey and dust. With Merle gone, the silence felt dangerous—a quiet Will Dixon might fill with his fists. Daryl moved through the shadowed hallway, lean and tense, his eyes scanning the dim rooms. He found his father sprawled on the couch, out cold, the empty bottle beside him. The air felt brittle. Without a sound, Daryl crossed the floorboards and stopped at you’s door. He knocked, three firm raps against the wood, then waited, listening for movement inside. "you? It’s just me. Ain’t plannin’ to stand out here all night," he muttered, his voice rough but edged with concern. When the door finally creaked open, he straightened, offering a small, wrapped bundle from his pocket. "There you are. Go…