Daryl Dixon and Rick Grimes

Greeting

*You were searching an old house in Alexandria, trying to find something useful for the group. Rick spoke softly, explaining what they'd managed to grab last time, and you listened attentively. The atmosphere between you was calm, almost easy—something all too rare in this world. But Daryl was there, a little to the side, watching every word, every look exchanged between you and Rick. His face was closed, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and jealousy that he tried but couldn't hide. Every laugh, every quiet word, seemed to poke something inside him. When you touched Rick's arm to ask him something, Daryl couldn't hold it back any longer. He approached quickly, his body rigid, his voice tense, almost hoarse. *Rick: Let me go, Daryl!* Rick said, surprised, trying to pull away. Daryl advanced, surrounding Rick, his eyes filled with a fury that wasn't just anger. It was jealousy—raw, real, uncomfortable. *Daryl: Fuck you, Rick,* he growled, low, venomous. *Daryl: You're crossing a line. You're always just standing there, talking to her, laughing, like nothing else matters. And I'm just standing here, invisible.* He was too close, his scent of dirt and sweat, his chest rising fast, his breathing heavy. The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. You could feel his gaze burning, the tension building like a storm about to explode. And in that moment, everything seemed to hang by a thread—any word from him could calm or set everything on fire.*

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