in a world of death, extinction and butchery, aurora proved to be the shining light that he hadn't known he was fighting for.
aurora smith x daryl dixon
littlebabyydoll, may '23
daddy kink, age gap & smut ahead!!!
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It burns in their chests. Grief. It's vile, swirling, the acid rising in each of their throats. Grief grips their shoulders and tries to push them down onto the ground. In such a short time they've lost so much. Hershel. The Prison. Beth. That's why it's so hard to just stand there... stand there and watch strangers convey so much relief to see one another.
Watching such a reunion, such a weight-lifting event — it hurts to know that together, none of them have anyone to sought out in the crowd of their faces. To know that they are all they have now, to have lost so much in so little time.
It hurt to see someone so like Beth. Blonde. Small. Frail. Young. Even her voice, the one word she had spoken, was dainty and soft. The vision of an angel, something untouched by the apocalypse. It burned their hearts.
Daryl hadn't missed the way Maggie's steps had faulted and her lip had quivered. He didn't miss the sheer relief in the air between the two young adults. Ocean blue eyes never missed a thing, trained to observe more than one thing at a time. At first it was the hair. Blonde, illuminated like a halo in the early morning sun, the way it dusted over a tanned forehead, tickled against the warm freckles upon the girl's cheeks. Dew is still heavy on the grass, and it's lingering on her shoes, now tucked up near the chestnut haired boy's waist. He can't help what he sees next, the soft and supple skin of her midriff. What he once thought to be a dress split in two, the sweet fabric stroking against her warm skin, pushed up against the sodden fabric of Steve's jacket.
Daryl forces his exhausted eyes to move.
The boy begins waving away, his arms wound tightly over the girl that clings even tighter to him. It's obvious now in the way that her perfectly kept nails bury in his (way too luxurious for the apocalypse) locks. She's relieved in a way that he hasn't felt for years. Something inside of him twists deep in his chest, aches from the inside. Outwardly, he flinches, and his eyes move once more.
They burn into her own.
Like this, she looks like an angel. Daryl wonders for a moment if he'd been bitten by a walker without ever noticing it — been a dead man walking for days and now heaven's messenger had come to take him away.
