The prison falls, and a hopelessly in love Daryl loses the opportunity to confess to you. At least, he thinks he has, but the future revels in being unpredictable.
something that’s been on my mind in terms of fluff/smut is daryl and reader being separated when the prison fell and reuniting in alexandria! possible angst as well like finding readers belongings at terminus but no reader so the reunion is 🥺
“You never told me who you were with. Before I found ya, I mean. Before us.”
You glance over to him at his voice, a lazy turn of your neck bringing him into your field of vision as you lie your weight on the two hands you’ve stretched behind your back. The fire he’d set up for the two of you crackles away, a dim light in the field of the prison yard, but enough to illuminate your features in an orange glow.
Scoffing, he thinks of a response. It’s not like he didn’t want to know - he did. Had since the first time the two of you took a hunting trip together - but in an odd way, he thinks he’s scared to know. Feared it, maybe.
You’re not his, despite what the gossip in the cafeteria would say, but he cares about you. A lot. A lot more than he anticipated. A lot more than these runaway nights spent talking and stargazing would let on, and that’s the reason why he’s never asked. He thinks that if someone had hurt you, he would get himself killed tearing through the world to find them.
Lying down on the grass, you hear shifting from beside you before you bring your gaze to his. him watching you as he folds his vest into a rectangle. Reaching out his hand, he gently lifts your head, welcoming the tickle of your hair before he lays the leather underneath you. It’s not much, but the way you grin from his movements makes him feel like he had just placed the softest pillow beneath you, one made of goose feathers and wool.
“I was with a group of friends when this first started. At least, they were friends until, uh… they weren’t. Not long after that I was with another group. Then I… I wasn’t. The last group I was with they… uh… they did things. Things I didn’t agree with.”
You don’t continue for a moment. Collecting your thoughts, he assumes - then you speak again.
“I used to think men before all this were bad, but they’re… they’re worse now.”
He hears a shuddering breath and his heart surges forward with anger. It’s a foolish thought, the one he had feared would wash through him, but he can’t help but think of beating whoever you were talking about into the ground. Did they do something to you? Did they lay a hand on you? Did they hurt you?
“I, uh, ran from them in the middle of the night. Must’ve, God, I must’ve walked until noon. It- it felt like hours, y’know? I didn’t know where to go and I didn’t have a map, but I just… I just knew I couldn’t be with them. So I kinda spun around in a circle and walked in whatever direction I stopped in. And I… I just kept walking.”
He swallows hard before you continue, pulling at the grass beneath his clammy hands. No, he panics, Daryl Dixon doesn’t go clammy. Not for anyone. But you’re not just anyone. Not to him.
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