awkwarddaryl

[awkwarddaryl]

It's a daily necessity x

[awkwarddaryl]

Distraction

Daryl Dixon x FtM!Reader Pronoun used ➤ "You", a lot younger than Daryl. AO3 ➤ Here

NSFW ➤ graphic description of violence, piv, no protection.

Word count: 5.4k

TWD universe. Alexandria Era before Negan.

Posting later than usual but I couldn't work on it as much as I wanted! Anyway I had fun writing this. :) Let me know if you want more from them, or if you liked it! As usual please use protection in real life and contraceptive.

It had been a few weeks already since you realized, worried, your stock of testosterone was rapidly diminishing. You still remembered the post-Terminus time that left you with no possibility of taking any shot. You had suffered from the agony of the withdrawal, the tiredness, and the difficult mood that accompanied the group’s dire situation. In Alexandria, you didn’t want it to happen ever again, so when you heard that there was an organized run to fetch a few meds, you jumped on the occasion to go with Daryl. He had probably connected the dots, like the rest of your little group from Hershel’s farm, as they all knew your ‘special man’ status.

Considering how Aaron and Eric were sometimes treated, you weren’t ready to be open about that fact with the people of Alexandria. It added a reason to participate in this run. And there were other, quieter reasons: feeling stuck in Alexandria between oppressive walls, this normalcy, stuck among all of those people who had no idea of the world behind. Their naivety made you both hate and envy them.

Sometimes people ate other people. They would put them in containers like cattle to gut them and cook them like pigs. You still dreamt of it, vividly. Jumping out of your bed at any sound, wondering whether Alexandria was being attacked, distrusting your neighbors, not eating any served meat that wasn’t cooked in front of your eyes. Insomnias. This paranoia that the group, your family since the beginning of the events, completely understood: you had seen it from very close. As others, you had been on the verge of that precipice. You knew you could have ended up on the plate of one of those cannibals. Of course, one needed to live through it to truly grasp the horror of your memories.

Therefore, getting out, escaping, allowed you to get back to the root of a softer past, when you were more naïve, despite the struggle of death ever-present since the end of the former world. When you would go around getting bits and pieces in the houses around the prison, when you would steal from shops for essentials. And then... The presence of Daryl. After Terminus, your reunion had led to a hopeful and relieved embrace. You even had kissed his lips. An impulsive gesture, after all the adrenaline from the fights and losses, after having killed so many people to get out of there alive. And you had regretted it. You even felt shame. Without considering the fact you were a trans man, which undoubtedly made you romantically ineligible for the entire group, Daryl was a bit older than you. Shame led you to avoid him, embarrassed and disgusted by yourself. You never spoke of it again: the death of Beth, then Noah, as well as the survival of the group, had taken a hold over all kinds of shallow conversations. You couldn’t even remember whether he had responded to your kiss back then, but you remembered the way he had grasped onto your back, to the point he could have bruised you. This memory was comforting in the middle of your insomnias.

Obviously, calm came back into your lives. The fact that you didn’t have to struggle every day for your life, and the fact that you had found yourself in a run with Daryl again, rekindled some of those questions again. The priority was still the meds. At least, that what you told yourself as you looked outside the car’s window. You had borrowed it for the run, hoping to get back with a bunch of bags filled with anything valuable that you could find on top of the desired meds. Daryl was driving fast on the roads to get to a mall he had spotted a while ago. You stopped in a large parking lot at a random spot, not bothering to park correctly considering no one else would come. You each took a bag on your back, and you noticed him taking his crossbow in case there was anything to kill inside.

The building was very imposing. You realized you lost the habit of seeing such tall things as you lifted your head towards the sky. How things had changed so much. All grey and dirty from the weather, with two transparent and automatic sliding doors, allowing both of you to see inside. Despite the obscurity reining inside, the storefront of the pharmacy was visible from here, as were the numerous inert cadavers lying on the floor or against the walls. Nothing seemed to move. You watched Daryl go around the building to make sure there wasn’t any danger outside, as you went back to the car to get your crowbar. Placing it between the two doors, you used the lever arm so one door would slide, creating an opening. It was more silent than breaking the glass, and it allowed to close it back if needed.

You entered slowly, looking around and attentively listening for any moan from walkers. You smelled the rot and the dust in your nose, suppressing a sneeze while stepping over a cadaver in the main alley of the mall. Everything was dark because of the lack of electricity, and you lighted up a flashlight that you placed between your teeth, keeping your crowbar in your two hands. You looked behind you to see Daryl seeping in as well, evidently not bothered neither by the dust or the putrid smell. He removed a couple of strands of hair from his face before switching on his own light, also putting it between his teeth. He kept his crossbow in his two hands, ready to shoot. You looked at him walking like a predator, and he signed you he would go around the alley. You nodded, going to the unclosed pharmacy, waiting for you.

It seemed devoid of any walkers, but you couldn’t relax anyway. You gently tapped on one of the metallic shelf to make a bit of noise in the room, and you saw some movements behind the counter, informing you of at least one enemy. Stepping over a new cadaver, you watched the walker with his white coat animating itself, its rotting hands attempting to grasp you from behind the counter. You only needed a few seconds to lift your crowbar above your head and stick it inside the cadaver’s head. Its hands immediately went limp. You had brought him an eternal rest after all this time. You tapped on the counter to make more noise, but nothing else seemed to move anymore. You put one hand into your pockets to find a note listing all the meds you needed before going through the shelves to get the necessary products. You were lucky there were still some, even though you could see people probably had stolen a bunch of meds in the past. Jumping over the counter, you went towards the locked medicine cabinets containing all the good stuff, including your testosterone. With your crowbar, you found a way to open them, causing noise, and then you shoved everything you found into your bag.

And then finally, you found a significant amount of testosterone. All those little boxes piled up ended up in the front pocket of your bag to get them out fast once in Alexandria. With this, you had enough for at least a year, which was a relief. You found a bunch of syringes, disinfectants and needles you also put in that pocket, before going on your merry day, shoving everything you could find in the bag. After a while, you heard something entering the pharmacy, and you recognized Daryl’s gait. Still cautious, you switched off your light, preferring to sneak behind the counter so that you could look at him discreetly and confirm.

“Got what ya needed?” Daryl asked then, his gaze towards where you hid. He had probably heard you. You straightened up, putting your bag on the surface before getting out of the little space you were in behind the counter, switching your light on to observe Daryl by the entrance. “Yup. I got everything on the list too. Not many walkers here, did you find some?” “Nothin’.”

A bit strange there were so few walkers, considering it was a mall. You wondered if they were trapped in some place. “Maybe we should do a quick round, just to be sure, and take whatever we think might be needed.” You said, putting your bag on your shoulder. You came out of the pharmacy, took the vehicle’s keys from Daryl, and went towards the entrance. Getting out, you breathed in the clean air from outside in your lungs, before reaching the car and placing the bag in the trunk. You closed the car.

--

Night slowly fell as you were finishing your visit to the mall. You didn’t cover every ground you could find, but from what you could see, there was almost no active walker still around. You found the rotting corpse of a couple in a shop that seemed to have given themselves death with a bullet in the head, probably after living in the mall for a time. The majority of the food had disappeared or was actively rotting. The fact that the pharmacy had barely been touched was a miracle, in truth, but maybe past visitors’ priorities hadn’t been to find meds.

When you came back towards the car, the moon and stars seemed to glow in the sky. This too, you had missed. Lights from Alexandria hid the stars, preventing you from attending the stellar show each night like you used to see before. You would have liked spending the night out there, despite the danger, if only to enjoy the calm, the silence and the landscape’s beauty.

Your bags filled to the brim in the trunk, you sat on your respective seats, and you heard Daryl putting the key to start the car. Except... It didn’t start up. After a bit of frustration, you switched on your flashlight again to allow Daryl to find out what was going on with the vehicle. You knew nothing about cars, considering you lived all of your life in the city, and you barely knew how to drive one. Outside, you heard a few groans. You gave the flashlight to Daryl, to get out of the car with your faithful crowbar, to clean up a bit. It wasn’t a horde, but you could feel them more active and numerous. You smashed their head easily, one by one. The car, a bit noisy, seemed to attract them, and you wondered whether staying in the mall for the night wasn’t the best solution at this moment.

After a few more head smashes, you tapped on the car’s window so that Daryl would lower it. “Daryl, we should get inside for the night. We can fix the car tomorrow morning, it’s dangerous and I don’t wanna see a horde.” You saw Daryl thinking about it, then looking around, then the sky. He came out of the car, before getting towards the trunk to get all the bags out. It was indeed probably safer to keep them on both of you, even though it added a bit of weight. You came back inside the mall carrying them, and you pulled the sliding doors to keep them closed as much as you could. “I know a place.” Daryl said, and you followed him then, sighing from the weight of the bags and exhaustion.

--

After climbing escalators with your own feet, Daryl brought you to a mattress shop. It was a big space that offered a clear vision of the entire room. In the deepest part of the shop, there was an office with an emergency exit behind. Useful in case of struggles. You placed the bags in the office, and decided to bring one mattress inside the room to sleep on it. You felt your eyes and nose itch as you were watching the thick layer of dust on the mattress you planned to move. You sneezed loudly before taking the mattress in your hand to turn it over and hit it, hoping to mitigate the quantity of dust you would absorb in one night. You then moved the mattress into the room, putting it on the ground, then sat on it. You took a bag of chips and two beers each, finally taking an actual break in this run. Now that you were actually here, the idea of spending a night outside Alexandria’s walls gave you contradicting feelings: excitation in your belly with anxiety in the background, and you wondered whether this wasn’t two different sides of the same feelings, in the end.

“I can stay up for the first part of the night.” You offered then, despite the exhaustion on your shoulders. You took a tissue from your pants’ pockets to blow your itchy nose after that. There was little chance you could sleep in these conditions anyway. Between insomnias from nightmares, the unknown and dangerous place, the dust, and all those questions regarding what had happened with Daryl... You needed a bit of time to reorganize your thoughts and breathe. It was incompatible with sleep. You raised on your two feet and came closer to the door. It had a little window allowing to watch what was going on outside, which was perfect to watch over the shop and avoid being surprised by a dozen of walkers suddenly banging on the door. Daryl looked at you with strange eyes. “What?” You said then. “I know ya ain’t sleeping well since...” “Since Terminus, yeah.” You looked by the window, staring at the obscurity. Nothing seemed to move. You preferred to avoid his gaze during those kinds of topics. You heard Daryl placing his crossbow next to the mattress, seemingly relaxing a bit.

“Wanna talk about it?” He offered after a while. This wasn’t the first time. Back then, before Beth’s death, he had asked too. You remembered the shock and violence from her death. Daryl probably did, too. You weren’t ready. Maybe you would never be. You rubbed your eyes. “Sorry... I just... I can’t. Besides, we’ve all been through terrible shit, I’m not special.” “Ya ain’t the same since.” “And so what? You’re not the same since Merle. Since Beth.” You yapped then, defensive, casting a glance towards him, crossing your arms. The torchlight lighted up his face only so much, but you could still see the memories hurting him. He didn’t reply immediately, swallowing your words and his saliva.

“Ya never killed anyone before.” “I... I saw what they were doing. They almost fucking ate me.” You felt your voice tremble, you remembered that horrifying moment with that young lady you had seen, as you had been held prisoner by a group of cannibal, not far from Terminus. The way they had cut, cooked and eaten her limb, as if she had been a little snack on the way home. Their eyes filled with a monstrous hunger for human meat, tore skin from that woman trapped between their disgusting teeth as they were enjoying their disgusting meal. Just thinking about it made your body shake in fear, your thoughts escaping your grasp, and you shook your head to get rid of it with clenched fists. To get rid of these feelings, of these memories. It could have happened to your family too, they had been on the verge of getting killed when Carol had saved them. No matter what Rick had thought about her, you couldn’t help yourself but think, with a step back, that she had been right since the beginning. All those monsters needed to die, and if you could be the one that did it, you had no problem with that. Nobody would touch your family without consequences, without you doing everything in your power to destroy them. You had promised yourself that much. Did that change you? Yes, probably, and so what? You didn’t expect anyone else to do the dirty work in your place anymore.

You finally felt a hand on your forearm, allowing you to get out of this endless circle of thoughts. You realized Daryl had come towards you, bringing you back into the present, safe. Those cannibals no longer existed. You felt your heart beats faster, remembering Daryl’s hands on your back after Terminus. Your fist relaxed, you let your arms fall on the sides of your body. “What are you...” You began, as he placed a hand on your back again to get you inside his embrace. Then a hand on your head, sliding between locks of hair, massaging your scalp to comfort you. It asked every bit of self control to not sigh in pleasure from his touch. You felt your body tense a bit, scared to let yourself go, especially with two beers in the system. It had been a mistake to drink. But maybe you hoped something out of it too, in the end, an excuse. It wasn’t you, craving Daryl’s touch, it was the alcohol making you feel that way. Your eyes raised towards Daryl, flashlight not lighting his face enough to understand his expression. You could barely see his eyelashes lowered towards you, his parted lips. You couldn’t imagine seeing Daryl so soft, but yet, here he was. You accepted it, like you accepted his need for freedom and solitude. Maybe you even enjoyed that emotional distance he seemed to keep with you. Made things easier. Made dreams and fantasies less serious. Protected you from hoping anything.

This tension between you stayed for a long time. Daryl didn’t seem to move more than that, and for a while, neither did you. Your hands still automatically found their way on Daryl’s chest, tentatively, not sure of yourself, and you felt your heels raise to get a little higher. You didn’t want to speak or ask anything, because whatever this moment was, you didn’t want any sound to make it flee and disappear forever. Your fingers slid on his shoulders, noticing the texture of his T-shirt, a little wet from today’s sweat, as you felt his breath on your face. You felt his muscles slowly relax as you caressed the nape of his neck, your heart racing as you felt his lips so close to yours. He didn’t step back, and you even had the impression he was actually curious. Curious of this, of your actions. Of what could happen if he let you even closer. Did he think sometimes about what happened when you met back? You blamed your next actions on alcohol, as you delicately felt his lips against yours, chapped, bitter and salty, and this time you couldn’t help but sigh. Your body pressed against his, larger and bigger, giving you this sensation of safety that you craved. As if you weren’t in the middle of nowhere, as if you weren’t having car troubles potentially stranding you out of civilization for days.

You felt him answer to your kiss, deepening it like he was hungry for more, his hand on your hair running towards the hollow of your back. It was like you opened valves, as if his body released itself after a long restraint. He pushed you a bit strongly against the door and you felt pain at the top of your back, where you hit the door. Still, you didn’t care at all, your fingers gripping at his hair to keep his face against yours, licking his lips, welcoming his touch. You could taste the bitterness of the ale, a bit of lingering cigarette, salt from chips and saliva. Your pelvis against his, you rocked against him, feeling his cock getting harder. You felt heat invading your core, asking yourself what the fuck was happening right now. You were on the verge of stopping to make sure everything was alright, grasping at your self-control, but you heard a deep groan before you could do anything. “Stop fuckin’ thinkin’...” Daryl pressed against you even more, crushing you against the door, his fingers finding their way behind your thighs to grip them and raise you up. Without parting from your lips, you both moaned as he was frotting between your legs. Despite the clothes, you could feel his sex against yours, reminding you how much you missed sex. All that frustration that had built up within you… You wanted him.

You placed your arms around his neck, feeling your own breath escaping from your lips under the pressure and arousal, kissing his jaw, then his lips again, incapable of doing anything more. Overwhelmed, you couldn’t understand anything that was happening, but you loved it and you wanted more. So much more, your pelvis answered to his, looking for more friction. You wanted to tear off his pants to feel his cock against you, you wanted to kneel down in front of him to suck his dick. You wanted him to fuck you against this door and make you moan so loud a whole horde of walker would come. Maybe the same ideas were going through Daryl’s head, because he sped up, and his groans became more and more animalistic, as if he couldn’t control himself anymore. He finally moaned from pleasure against your neck, drooling and breathing hard. You understood then that he had come, and you confirmed it as he jerked away from another one of your pelvic thrust. His sensitivity was up through the roof after the orgasm. Not totally understanding everything that had transpired yet, you felt your feet back on the ground, Daryl’s head still in the crook of your neck to catch his breath. “Are... Are you okay?” You hesitated, your hand stroking his sweaty scalp, sticky strands of hair getting tangled with your fingers. You felt him nod against your neck, hot breath making you shiver.

You stayed that way for a little while until you heard a low moan from a walker. You pushed Daryl back softly, still in a weird state from whatever happened between you two, catching your own breath back. Then you picked up one of the flashlight to direct it towards the door’s window. One walker seemed to have noticed the strange sounds coming from the office, and slowly came towards your position. Getting your crowbar, putting aside your red cheeks from sexual pleasure, embarrassment and frustration, you got out of the room to get the walker to the ground, one hit in his head.

When you came back, you couldn’t help but notice the stain on Daryl’s pants with the light, as you placed it next to the mattress. He was sitting on the edge, and you did the same, placing a hand on his arm to stroke him. He seemed like he was avoiding your stare. One part of you was desperate for him to properly take care of you, with his lips and his fingers in you. Nevertheless, even with two beers, you could still control yourself.

“I didn’t know you... Liked me that way.” You even convinced yourself of the opposite. “Well, ya never asked. Avoided me since...” “... Since the kiss.” You finished. “Yeah.”

You watched him concentrate on the empty beer bottles, raising his knees against himself, arms surrounding them. Your body got closer to his automatically, your heart beating fast again at the idea he could touch you, and even liked touching you. “Would you do me a favor?” “What?” His question revealed his surprise. “Finish what you started.” You whispered, your own hands getting to your pants to unbutton and remove it. He observed you, probably with a bit of difficulty considering the amount of light in the room, but it made the scene even more intimate and secret. You took one of his hand to place it on your sex, resisting the urge to rub against it. “Haven’t cummed yet, ‘m still burning up ‘cause of you.” “‘Thought you hated me.” “I thought you hated me.” You answered, feeling the heat of his hand against your dick. His fingers flickered on it, tensing your body, a sigh of pleasure escaping from your lips.

“I thought you thought I was disgusting.” You said, avoiding his stare. He slowly lowered towards your entrance, rubbing your lips, going from top to bottom above your underwear.

After a few seconds, his body unfolded to get on his knees on the ground, in front of you, and you watched him lowering his face between your legs. Embarrassment invaded you as he placed a kiss on your dick, but you couldn’t help but want more. You felt disgusting, wrong, but you wanted him so badly too. Desiring him, wanting to feel more, you hurried yourself to remove your boxers, spreading your legs as he moved a hand on your thigh, massaging up to your ass. You felt his face against your skin, kissing your dick before getting it between his lips, sucking. Your body trembled and twisted in pleasure, your elbows barely supporting your weight. You felt his lips lowering towards your entrance, licking again, sliding his tongue in, kissing you more. You couldn’t imagine he desired you that way, and yet. Maybe he didn’t think you were so disgusting. “Fuck... Daryl...” You sighed, at his mercy.

His body straightened up after a while to remove his own pants, his cock so obviously hard again. You watched him, feeling your cheeks hot again, impressed by the size under his underwear, your mouth watering at the idea of touching him there. Never in a million years you would have thought being able to see that, to experience him that way. The light barely illuminated his face, shadows softening his features. You could see his lips shine, the area surrounding his mouth wet, and his black eyes staring at you like he was going to devour you. And you wanted him to do so. Daryl approached, seemingly less confident, and you placed your arms around his shoulders to kiss him with desire, your legs getting on his ass to bring him closer to you. You both fell against the mattress, and you felt his cock rubbing against you once again. This time, however, it was hot and wet, almost raw despite the fabric between you. You sighed together in pleasure, desperate to feel him even closer to you, inside of you. A few strands of his hair fell on your face, and you took the time to bring them back behind his ears, offering a shy smile.

Your hands slid towards Daryl’s flanks, lowering towards the elastic band of his boxers, signaling you wanted it out. He raised back up on his knees hastily, and you thought you recognized his expression from before. His hands trembled because of his desire, he struggled to control himself. You helped him to remove his underwear, watching his swollen cock, and you brought your hands around it to pump him. He closed his eyes under your attentions, his hips accompanying your movements in what looked like desperation for release. You let it go eventually, and Daryl looked at you, completely undone, his wet cock dripping from precum. You used your heels on his ass to encourage him to get closer to you again, which he did with no hesitation. Feeling his fat cock, so hot and hard against you, made you moan in pleasure. Everything was slippery between you two, from sweat and fluids. You rubbed against one another, sighing and whispering from pleasure, and you eventually felt him invading you. It had been so long, you had to slow down and breathe to relax your walls, especially considering the size. He looked at you with a mixture of concern and pleasure, but you could feel your body tremble from desire, almost overflowing. His hips thrusted even deeper, and you arched your back in response, from pain and pleasure. “Aaah... You’re fucking huge. Wait wait wait...”

He stopped, but you could feel his breath against your face, and you stroked his cheek. He seemed completely overwhelmed by sensations, pleasure, and his needs. “Ya feel... so tight..” He said, breathless, his hands grasping at the mattress to stay above you. Relaxing little by little, you moved your hips around to get used to the size, feeling Daryl’s body trembling. “Go...” You whispered, and you felt him thrusting even deeper within you, up to the deepest part, and your body shook from the extreme sensations. “Aaah...” He looked like he was wondering whether everything was okay, but your expression probably reassured him, as he started moving. He began slowly, probably to be sure you wouldn’t feel any pain. Little by little, however, he sped up, releasing control over his own body. He went faster, then thrusted harder, hitting the depth of your cunt, making you moan in pleasure, the pain subsiding to give room for ecstasy. You felt the walls of your intimacy squeeze his cock, making him growl like a beast. “Fuckin’ good...” A hand lowered towards your dick to stroke yourself at the same time. Your eyes closed, overwhelmed, feeling completely filled up by his penis, his loss of control over his own body like an animal in heat, making your head spin and tremble.

When he came this time, inside of you, you squeezed his cock inside you to milk his seed. He groaned from pleasure, his arms barely keeping him up, his head getting towards your neck once more. Maybe from shame, maybe from exhaustion. Keeping his large sex inside of you, you continued your masturbation, feeling wet kisses, his body burning against yours, his seed within you, his cock still filling you, your heart beating fast in your chest. You didn’t need much time before the orgasm, whimpering from pleasure and overstimulation. You finally let yourself relax and breathe, completely boneless. You couldn’t think anymore. It took some time before you could get your mind back, with the fear of having alerted all the walkers around towards your shelter for the night. But the sex had drained you physically, and you weren’t sure you could get back up and walk straight anymore.

The idea made you smile.

You stroked his hair slowly, and after a while, he finally raised back up. You saw he avoided your gaze again, as he slowly removed his cock from you with a sigh. He walked towards the door, still half naked, looking through the window with one flashlight. “So... Did we lure in every existing walker around?” You asked, cheeks still hot, lying on the side after putting your boxers back, embarrassed by your own body, but devouring his with your eyes. “Doesn’t seem so.” He replied, voice still hoarse from your activity. “So... We could have been louder. Maybe next time?” You smirked.

He pointed the light towards you, and you couldn’t see his expression. “I ain’t bringing you next time.” “Because I’m too distracting?” You wiggled your body around, joking, false confidence. He didn’t reply, bringing back the light towards the window to watch potential walkers.

--

Night went on with no issue. Daryl took watch for one part of the night, then you, but neither one of you could really sleep. It was a comfortable silence between you two, without the pressure of discussing anything, simply existing in the same space. You observed him watching by the window or lying down on the mattress to rest, and he didn’t mind you staring. You thought back on your sexual encounter, but also your discussion. Of the nightmares that were still here, even if Daryl had brought you some comfort.

You weren’t idiots. You knew that whatever you had wouldn’t last long. Because one of you would inevitably die. But, before that, you now knew you could count on one another for comfort at the heart of sleepless nights. A distraction.

Daryl managed to fix the car the next morning, and you went. You still couldn’t help but place a hand on his arm for a chunk of the travel back to Alexandria.

[awkwarddaryl]

No posting today because I haven't got the time to finish my next piece (which is already rather long... 5k one shot with a bit of NSFW). Just to make sure I'm putting my posting schedule to be only on Thursday now!

[awkwarddaryl]

gif not mine

Y/N: Daryl kissed me!

Rosita: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Y/N: It was unbelievable!

Rosita: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Carol: Okay, we wanna hear everything. Rosita, get the wine. Y/N, does this end well or do we need tissues?

Y/N: Oh, it ended very well.

Rosita: Do not start without me! Do not start without me!

Michonne: Okay, alright, let’s hear about the kiss. Was it a soft brush against your lips or was it like a, you know, “I gotta have you now” kind of thing?

Y/N: Well, at first it was really intense, you know? And then, oh God, and then we just sort of sunk into it.

Carol: Ohh... So, okay, was he holding you? Or were his hands on your back?

Y/N: First they started out on my waist and then they slid up and then they were in my hair.

Rosita, Carol, Tara, and Michonne: Ohhh.

-meanwhile-

Daryl, sharpening a knife: An’, uh, an’ then I kissed ‘er.

Rick, looking over a map: You did?

Daryl, blushing: Uh huh.

Abraham, cleaning a gun: Tongue?

Daryl, blushing more: Uh, yeah.

Abraham, nodding: Cool. Gonna bump uglies?

Daryl, sighing: Should’a seen that comin’.

[awkwarddaryl]

There is Only Now - Chapter 19

Daryl Dixon x FtM!Reader Pronoun used ➤ "You", same age as Daryl, about late thirties. Song AO3 ➤ here First Chapter - Previous Chapter

TW (general story) ➤ transphobia, homophobia, abuse, alcohol and drug abuse, mention of suicide, death.

Word count: 2k

You were highschool sweethearts, fled your abusive homes together, married. Then, Merle came back into Daryl's life and played a big role in your divorce. For the last three years, during Merle's death anniversary, you kept finding Daryl drinking in this bar. Today was Merle's fourth death anniversary, would you come for him this time? Or did you move on?

Last chapter!!! I hope you liked the story, don't hesitate to comment! Can't wait to write other things. :D Thank you everyone for your support!!!

And then… Finally, death. It got here when no one was in the room, during a brief moment when everybody was outside in the middle of the night. He took the opportunity to let go of everything, giving his last breath and his last heartbeat away.

It had disappointed you, in a way. You hadn’t managed to take his hand, and even your presence had seemed to prevent his departure. These were complicated feelings, questions that no one had answers to. It didn’t matter that much though, because you felt something especially light in your surviving heart. This word at the top of your lips that you ended up giving to Daryl like a hidden secret: freedom.

Never again you would ever have to worry about his existence. You would never have to fear the words that would harm you and the people you loved. His judgements, his mockeries. Never again you would be afraid for Dog, for Daryl, for your friends, for your family. You were free, and while tears still ran down your cheeks like a waterfall, you weren’t unhappy. You had your whole life in front of you, and you were excited to spend it with your people, without fear. You had spent a few days after his death to prepare about a thousand different plans, from summer holidays to little weekends, comparing your schedules in hopes of finding some time for a motorcycle trip. Daryl worried for you, but you tried to reassure him often. Of course, you were sad sometimes, especially at night, especially from the memories awoken by that time with your dying father. From the way your features facing the glass reminded you of the one you saw at the hospital. But during the day… During the day, you felt invincible.

When the day of his cremation finally came, you planned to eat at the restaurant with the entire group after, including Paul and Aaron. You had asked Daryl to accompany you, and he had asked you whether you truly wanted to participate in it. But you had things to tell for the burial of your father.

Dressed in all black, T-shirt and jeans, not bothering to dress neatly for once – your father didn’t deserve it – you entered the building to see your father one last time before he would burn away forever. It was a spacious room with creamy colored tiles, with a tall ceiling that reminded of a religious place without fundamentally being one. At the end of the room, a reading desk with a microphone, and the casket to pay their respect to your father. The room was filled with people you knew nothing of, and you stood apart from that: everyone had heard about you at some point in their lives, had seen your pictures on the hospital website, or during a google research filled with curiosity. Your stepmother was here too, she looked tense from your presence. She approached, slightly stumbling, her face serious, wrinkles digging deep into her skin from her expression. “What are you doing here?” She asked, visibly embarrassed by your presence. “It’s my father.”

You stared at the reading desk and the casket your dead father was in. Without listening for more, you walked there. Daryl stayed behind, probably to temper the widow’s annoyance, knowing it would only get worse with time. Once in front of your father’s lifeless body, you realized how much emptiness you felt in his regards. His face was painted to give him a livelier and healthier appearance, and he simply looked like he was sleeping profoundly. He had died in a sleep, without pain, and you could see it from his relaxed expression. You couldn’t help but think that he had it good, your father. When you had seen your mom inside her casket, it hadn’t been the same story: messed up make-up and contorted expression.

One more injustice.

You didn’t touch him, feeling the regret of not having been able to take his hand when he was living despite yourself. Now, it was way too late, and it didn’t matter anymore.

Looking towards the reading desk, you took a paper out of your jeans’ pocket. You placed it, flattening it, before tapping on the microphone to see if it was plugged in. It was. Public attention went towards you, and every pair of eyes showed you incomprehension, suspicion, even disgust. They knew who you were, what you were. It terrorized you.

“Herm… Good morning, everyone.” You politely began despite it all, voice barely trembling, your shoulder and face tensed by the pressure of those gazes on you. You watched Elise trying to come closer, probably to prevent you from speaking at all, but Daryl placed a hand on her shoulder to dissuade her. It got a tiny smile out of you, feeling less alone in this hell. “As you all know, the man lying there is my father. I’m his son, I used to be a girl, a long time ago. You might have known me back then. I think… I deserve to say a couple of words about my father.” You cleared your throat, uncomfortable silence in the room weighing on you. But Daryl supported you with his eyes. You watched each head in front of you, one by one. “You have known him, he was a colleague, a friend, an acquaintance, or even a husband. He was nice to everyone outside. He was someone who was very skilled to keep up appearances, and I think I inherited that from him, among other things.” Your face lowered before casting an eye to the casket, taking a break.

“To me, he wasn’t only my father, he was also my greatest fear. He berated me and pushed me to my limits. I asked myself so many times, as a teen after mom died, whether I would survive this, whether I would survive him. He made me feel like I was the issue, that I wasn’t sane enough, that I wasn’t strong enough, too this or too that, never good enough. He made me feel wrong for who I was every day, every minute, every second of my existence.” You felt your teeth clench, your voice trembling from memories, and heard the offended whispers of your audience. You saw Elise’s brows furrowing in anger, and Daryl’s hand around her forearm. She was probably afraid of him because your father had always portrayed him like a delinquent. You felt bad he behaved like some sort of bodyguard at this moment, but you also felt privileged to know him, and see him supporting you in this way. His loyalty made your heart burst with affection. And all the other ways he stayed by your side for all of this, for everything. It gave you more strength to continue.

“So today… Is a celebration for me. I survived him. I’m free. Today I’m not sad that I lost my father. I’m sad I never had one who deserved me. That’s what I’m mourning, that I will mourn forever, because I really believed…” You felt tears burning your eyes while you stifled a sob in the back of your throat. “… I really believed in him until the end.” You took a couple of seconds to calm down your feelings, placing a hand in front of your mouth and wiping the corner of your eyes. The room was entirely silent at that point.

“I don’t… I don’t hate him. But I think he’s pathetic.” You pointed to him with your finger. “All he needed to say to have a relationship with me was ‘I’m sorry’. Don’t you think it’s such a waste?” You stared back at the audience. “His life… Is a lesson. A lesson in forgiveness.” You looked at Daryl, feeling your heart warm. “A lesson in realizing our mistakes and do better before it’s too late. To reach out for one another, to love one another today while we can. No matter the past, no matter the weight on our heart, no matter the pain. I believe we can build a new future together if we want to.” You lowered your gaze to your piece of paper for an instant, before casting a new look towards your father. “I’m sad my father never chose that path with me, but I wish him peace wherever he is now. Thank you.”

You left the desk to get back to the casket, looking at the lying form in the bed one last time. “Good bye, dad.” You whispered.

You joined Daryl back, seeing Elise struggle away from his grip to free herself, looking furious. You approached her calmly. “Don’t worry, we’re leaving. I said my piece.” You saw her suddenly raising her hand in the air, but you caught her wrist before she could slap your face. “That’s neither the time nor the place, Elise.” You said, calmly enough to diffuse the situation, but serious too. Daryl standing next to you probably stared at her darkly enough to push the point further.

You saw Elise clenching her jaw, eyes red. “You ungrateful child… Get out.”

--

“To freedom!” You raised your glass with no alcohol in the air, looking at each and every one of your friends smile and raising theirs. Daryl in front of you offered you a little smile, and you drank all together before eating a delicious large pizza. The conversation went on, small talk, everything but the burial.

You felt so lighthearted, loved, and you spoke about more of your future projects: potentially living with Daryl again and therefore finding a new place to live. You thought you would potentially get away from the city to get a house close to the forest, so that you could roam around there more with Dog. You thought about taking vacation during the summer, maybe close to the sea, and there was an aquarium you really wanted to check out in a city close to the beach. You were excited about it. You thought about all the trips you could do on a motorcycle with a bit of free time, all those adventures that were waiting for you and excited you both like teenagers. Rick seemed to notice that you looked younger and energetic compared to the last several years he had known you.

At the end of the meal, you excused yourself to get to the bathroom. You found yourself in front of the mirror, cleaning your hand with soap. You watched your decrepit father, close to his death, in your reflection. It was without a doubt him: the shape of his face, his forehead and his eyes, even the lines on the corners. You didn’t know anymore whether it was him or you in the end, that looked at you in the mirror, with this sullen expression on the face.

The door of the bathroom opened, and someone else gazed into the mirror. And there, you saw something different as you took his hand in yours.

Two men, with their little wrinkles, their older face, thin hair, bags under their eyes. Divorced, but partners all the same. They even had a dog now. You saw them younger, with a different body, lost but determined to have a place in this world, to fight for it. They supported one another, they formed a team together, they even got married. Finally, you saw them even older, grey haired and balding, thinner skin. Maybe even chronically ill, bent forward because of their painful back, with a walking stick to move without falling.

With, as a constant, the way you looked at each other, this mix of tenderness and silent love. Those little attentions you gave one another. The way he caressed the back of your hand with his thumb. You saw yourself smile in the mirror.

It was unmistakably Daryl and you at this instant, and forever. Till death do you part.

[awkwarddaryl]

gif not mine

Y/N, pulling her gun: Go to Bed. This is no longer a request. This is now a Threat.

Daryl: Feels like m’bein’ threatened by a wet kitten.

Y/N: A wet kitten with a gun!

[awkwarddaryl]

There is Only Now - Chapter 18

Daryl Dixon x FtM!Reader Pronoun used ➤ "You", same age as Daryl, about late thirties. Song AO3 ➤ here First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

TW (general story) ➤ transphobia, homophobia, abuse, alcohol and drug abuse, mention of suicide, death.

Word count: 2.4k

You were highschool sweethearts, fled your abusive homes together, married. Then, Merle came back into Daryl's life and played a big role in your divorce. For the last three years, during Merle's death anniversary, you kept finding Daryl drinking in this bar. Today was Merle's fourth death anniversary, would you come for him this time? Or did you move on?

It's almost the end of this fic, tune on Thursday to get the final part!

After his outburst, Daryl stomped his feet until he came out of the palliative care unit. He climbed down the stairs, running rather than taking the elevator, before finally getting out. He took a deep breath, then walked the path towards the little garden next to it he saw before. There were a few ‘smoking is forbidden’ signs to fight against lung cancer, but Daryl didn’t care at all at that moment. He picked a cigarette before lighting it up, putting it between his lips, taking a drag. The look you cast him when he was ready to strangle your father himself… It was unbearable. This prick deserved to die a slow and lonely death. He deserved to suffer, not spend his last days happy and relaxed in palliative care. He was a waste of air, a waste of space, a waste of meds.

Daryl inhaled the poison inside himself, soothing himself with his deadly habit. Far away, he could see another sick person in a wheelchair and his family accompanying him, making sure to get as much as they could for their last days together. He lowered his gaze, thinking that neither you nor he ever had that kind of chance with your respective families. Cancer stick killed his mom as a child. Yours got a heart attack before you even met Daryl. He wondered if, in thirty or forty years, with some hope, you would find yourselves in that situation. If you could ever say goodbye to one another, making the best of your last days together. While watching that family, cigarettes between his fingers, he wished you both could. For this to happen, he needed to come back up and support you in this difficult moment of your life. Just like you had done when he lost Merle. You had been there for his burial, and then every anniversary after his death. Daryl couldn’t leave you alone facing this.

When Daryl rubbed his eyes, he found they were kind of wet. He finished his cigarette before lighting it off and putting it in his pocket for whenever he would find an appropriate an ashtray. Coming back inside the building, he struggled to find the right floor in the elevator. He almost managed to lose himself in the labyrinthine corridors that all looked the same to him. When he reached back the unit, one caregiver informed him you were inside the family lounge, and so that’s where he went. Daryl asked himself what kind of state he would find you then, and once in front of the door, he felt embarrassed for his own behavior. He remembered the way you looked at him when he was ready to strangle that son of a bitch with his own hands.

The fear in your eyes, your body curled up like a child. How many times did that bastard made you feel that way? And here he was, participating in it, in this difficult moment of yours.

Sighing, thinking this wasn’t the right time to punish himself, Daryl opened the door, finding you in a fetal position, breathless, gasping for air, and closed eyes. He hurried himself to your sides after closing the door, getting on his knees to get to your level, placing a hand in your hair as gently as he could. You opened your eyes in response, cheeks wet with tears. “I’m here.” He said, feeling guilty, and you sobbed in response.

His hand in your hair stroked you softly, trying to ground you into the present, the here and now, but Daryl knew that thoughts in your head were not stopping. Trying to master his own growing anger in his core and feeling his cheeks and neck reddening from it, he reached out to grab a couple of tissues from the table. “What did he say?” Daryl whispered, wiping your tears away slowly, fighting the urge to get to the room to strangle the pathetic form that called himself your father. You closed your eyes again, trying to breathe as you could. “I’m like… My mother. He’s… Right.” Scratching your head, Daryl sat next to you on the couch, and you raised up to get inside his arms. “You’re not like your parents.” He said, trying to reassure you. He placed his head on top of yours, rubbing your back, feeling your breathing getting even little by little. You wiped your own tears, sniffling and taking a couple of tissues to blow your nose. “You’re both smart and kind enough to reach out to people no matter what they did, but protect yourself when it burns. You’re strong… Hell, stronger than anyone I know.” He paused. “If anything, you’ve only inherited the best parts of them.”

“Even when… I hurt you?” You asked, with your trembling voice, like a child. “I know you’d never treat me the way they did. And you never did.”

Daryl hated what your father was doing to you whenever you were in a prolonged contact with him. Thankfully, it would end soon. You both stayed like this, silent, and he placed a kiss on your head, hearing your breathing normal again. “You deserved better parents.” You sniffled and blew your nose even more, your voice bitter. “We both did.”

--

Daryl watched you go to the palliative care unit every day. He accompanied you sometimes or took care of Dog depending on the hour. Of course, he never went back to the room after that, because he knew he would feel the urge to finish the job faster himself and with as much pain as possible. Words weren’t enough to describe all the spite, disgust and anger he felt for your father. He made him think of his own in more ways than one, and this was maybe one of the reason that made it impossible to control himself. Even so, both of your fathers were still very different. Yours still had this respectable mask that had allowed him to be accepted. He had a job, a wife, a place in this society. But you only needed to look behind it to see he was a bad man. This mask, you had inherited it, but as usual with you, you had transformed it into something beautiful and good: to protect yourself, to reassure and help your patients and colleagues, a mask that allowed you to climb the social hierarchy and become a doctor.

He saw you go every day, and every time he thought about taking your hand and express his admiration for you. To remind you that all those sorrowful and hurtful parts of yours, you had transformed them into something human and beautiful. But it seemed to him that you saw it in his eyes, in the way he kissed your lips, and in the way he would tell you ‘see you tonight’ after caressing your cheek. You assured him you and your father weren’t discussing the abuses anymore. Sometimes even, you weren’t talking at all. Your father watched TV or slept, and the more the days passed, the more he slept profoundly.

After a while, you announced Daryl the end was extremely close: your father had agonal breathing. This time, you asked him whether he could come again with you. It was easier then, Daryl had managed to come back down emotionally, and so he accepted. In any case, the old fucker was neither able to move nor to talk in this state. So close to death, he wouldn’t do any more harm.

At the hospital, in front of his room, you hesitated once more in front of the door. Daryl took your hand in his, and it seemed like it gave you enough courage to open it. The shadow of the man lying on the medicalized bed made him hesitate too for a moment, but he followed you anyway. Daryl heard the dry hissing gasps from your father, with those little pauses between two breaths. His skin was even whiter than the last time he saw him, his eyes closed, purplish-blue hands and fingers alongside his body. Daryl thought he could probably break him in two if he wanted to, considering his emaciated and fragile body. It was reassuring, in a way, to know that the man who hurt you so much found himself in a state that made him completely incapable of harming you. You both sat on the chair in front of the bed, and Daryl watched you place your hands on the bed, silent.

It lasted a while.

Then, after that, you looked at Daryl. Your eyes weren’t very sad, actually peaceful, filled with some uncertainty. “I… I’ve been wondering for days how to… You know… Touch him?” You began, your gaze getting back on the shadow of your father. “I don’t think much whenever I touch patients to reassure them, to tell them I’m present, it naturally comes, and there’s that white coat that puts some distance, in a way. Here I’m… Just a man, a son, and especially a son who’s never touched his father on purpose in his whole life.” “You don’t have to touch him.” Daryl replied softly. “I don’t want him to feel alone.” You placed your hand closer to your father’s. “I don’t think anyone should be alone when they die, no matter what they’ve done.”

Daryl lowered his head, thinking your father didn’t deserve that much respect from you. Your father deserved to die with complete indifference. You certainly thought that being born because of him gave you some sort of duty, even though he never accomplished his own for you. But wasn’t what Daryl had done for Merle, in a way? Because he had been his brother. So… How could he blame you for this? And as you did for him, Daryl would support you as long as necessary.

“I’ve seen… Many people die by themselves in their rooms at the ER. Sometimes because the family couldn’t be here on time. Sometimes because they had no one. I’ve stayed past my shift, and I remember some of them.” Daryl saw you struggling to approach your hand more. “I held their hands. I heard their last words. And I can’t seem to be able to do it for my father. What does that make me?”

Daryl raised back up from his chair and bent over yours to get you inside his arms. He whispered in your ear, “A human.” before kissing your cheek, then your temple, his hands on your tensed shoulders to massage you slowly. You let him do it, relaxing slightly, without doing anything at all, without pressuring you into making any more contact with your father.

“Asshole should be happy you’re here at all.” “Daryl.” You replied with a disapproving look. But maybe it helped to not feel that much guilt, because you placed your hands on your thighs, giving up on the idea for the present moment.

It was a different space-time that Daryl knew of. As if minutes and hours were spent differently, stretching like an elastic band, but preventing anyone from getting bored. It was a time that seemed to allow people to think, to feel, to remember. At each gasp, there was this pause that you had explained to him was characteristic of these last moments of life. Each pause seemed infinite, letting you wonder whether a new breath would ever come at all. And a new inspiration took place, tensing the weak muscles of the dying man’s neck and chest. A metallic sound from a machine next to both of you warned for a new morphine dose, and then silence.

A new breath.

Daryl kept his hands on your shoulders, and you placed your head on top of one of them, seemingly more peaceful. “Thank you, for being here.”

--

At some point, somebody knocked on the door. Daryl turned around and you almost jumped out of your chair, peace replaced by worry. When it opened, you both saw an old woman, trembling a little while she walked inside. You came closer to her to help her move, but she signaled she didn’t need any. “I’m healthy enough to move by myself!”

“Alright.” You responded, almost like a robot. Remembering that Daryl was in the room, you closed the door behind her. “Elise, this is Daryl, my partner. Daryl, Elise, my stepmother.”

Daryl’s brows furrowed with the news, he had heard of the woman in question before. Nevertheless, he approached the chair so she could sit down, then looked at you because he didn’t know what to do or what to say. She didn’t seem to be bothered by it though, she didn’t seem to care about anything at all. Her gaze was stuck on her dying husband.

“Do you want a moment alone?” You asked her, and she took your father’s hand easily, voice sad. “Please. I can’t stay long and I want to say goodbye.”

You nodded and went for the door, Daryl following you. You opened it and left the room.

You sighed, visibly exhausted. “I need to eat something or some coffee for tonight. Can you fetch me one at the vending machine? It’s on the first floor. I’ll grab some hospital food for us. We can meet back at the family lounge.”

You went on your own quests to find food. Daryl went down the stairs to get to the first floor, finding the vending machine without any trouble. He took a cappuccino for you, your favorite, and a black coffee for himself. After that, he went back up, opening the family lounge with his elbow, finding you with two food trays. The food wasn’t that bad considering it came from a hospital, and you took time to do some small talk. You seemed to think a lot about the future. “If it goes well… For us, would you want us to go somewhere for the summer?”

Daryl shrugged. “Don’t have the money for it.”

You stared at him, placing a hand on his, effortlessly caressing it. “I mean… I don’t mind paying.” You had done it without thinking, without torturing yourself, because things between you two, though the past had not been erased, felt natural, smooth. No matter the blood, Daryl had been your real family all this time, and neither one of you forgot about that, even after such a long time.

You loved one another.

[awkwarddaryl]

Rewatching 6x10 and Rick was so GIDDY, like the happiest, silliest we've ever seen him. Being a silly country boy playing his country music, having silly adventures with his bestie, grabbing mints for his girl. Even if the truck with food ended up in the lake, no one could take the smile off his face.

[awkwarddaryl]

thinking about daryl who's so overwhelmed by you touching him and kissing him that when your mouth is out of reach his first instinct is to lick your face

your hand is on his dick and you're whispering sweet things to him and he wants to be just as sweet to you, he really does, but you're not letting him tug you close enough to kiss your cheek so he settles for the next best thing, licking up your jaw and down your chin desperately, like a dog

[awkwarddaryl]

gif not mine

Y/N: Look! Dog listens to me now!

Y/N, throwing a ball: Fetch!

Dog: -just stands there-

Daryl, confused: He didn’t do it.

Y/N: I taught him to ignore social conventions and think for himself.

[awkwarddaryl]

hot take but daryl would know exactly how to handle you feeling messy as shit. that mood where everything's a mess and you don't know how to cope with it. he'd take you out far away from the group and let you do whatever you need, break shit, cry, scream. he'd clear the area first so he knows it's safe and he'd just let you loose. he may not know how to talk out your problems, but he sure as hell will stay by your side while you work out whatever's going on in your head. he gets it. he's been there. and he's there for you as you both figure out how to build a life together at the end of the world

[awkwarddaryl]

found this on pinterest.. oh my GOD

[awkwarddaryl]

There is Only Now - Chapter 17

Daryl Dixon x FtM!Reader Pronoun used ➤ "You", same age as Daryl, about late thirties. Song AO3 ➤ here First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

TW (general story) ➤ transphobia, homophobia, abuse, alcohol and drug abuse, mention of suicide, death.

Word count: 2.7k

You were highschool sweethearts, fled your abusive homes together, married. Then, Merle came back into Daryl's life and played a big role in your divorce. For the last three years, during Merle's death anniversary, you kept finding Daryl drinking in this bar. Today was Merle's fourth death anniversary, would you come for him this time? Or did you move on?

One bigger boy one!

It was your hospital, almost your second home. And yet, this time when you went, it seemed imposing and horrifying. You found the building for geriatrics, your stomach in a knot, your mouth completely dry. Thankfully, Daryl was following you, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You could see his serious and closed look. This couldn’t have been easy for him, and you almost regretted to have brought him. Your father and he only saw each other once, but that hadn’t gone well evidently, and Daryl had his own issues with his parents. You had always felt like you had to protect everything and everyone from your father, a deep-rooted instinctive reaction from your very core.

You hadn’t fled your respective families for no reason.

You hadn’t been able to eat the whole day because of the anxiety, and when you put your feet inside the elevator, this feeling only increased further. Daryl seemed to notice it, because he looked at you with a worrying look, without saying anything. After all, wasn’t it normal to feel bad? Seeing your father after twenty years, seeing him just before his death. The nausea that assailed you didn’t waver after stepping out of the elevator, nor when you stood in front of the swing doors from the palliative care unit. You pushed them slowly, finding yourself in a corridor, in front of a window leading to the staff room. There were little plants all around the place to decorate, and you remembered this peculiar atmosphere. Here, everything was calm, soft, almost relaxing. It helped you to release some of the pressure, to catch your breath, feeling time stand still on the here and now.

You said good morning to an assistant nurse, announcing you were here to see your father, giving your name and his room number. When she answered you, you saw one doctor coming out of her office. You knew her well, she was a colleague with whom you had spent some time. You offered her a smile and started discussing. You introduced Daryl as your partner and announced the man in the 9th room was your father. It surprised her briefly. She placed a hand on your shoulder, looking at you with compassion. “I didn’t know, but now that I look at you, it’s obvious. You have the same face.”

Maybe this had been a way to try to comfort you, but the idea made you feel sick. If there was one person you truly didn’t want to look like, it was your father. You offered an embarrassed smile, and after a brief discussion, she invited you to come see her if you needed to talk. She gave you some details about your father’s condition before going on her day. You didn’t want anyone at the hospital to know how difficult your relationship with your father was. You couldn’t handle the idea of people knowing.

“You alright?” Asked Daryl once again after she was out of hearing. “Do you think I look like him?”

He came closer to you to not speak too loudly, but you could hear his voice like a growl. “‘Fucker is nothin’ like ya.”

You roamed in the corridor until you reached the room with a closed door. You stared at it for a long time, your feet refusing to move forward. Your whole body didn’t want to see what was behind the door, and you struggled to move. You didn’t know the person behind anymore. You remembered, of course, but those memories were blurry and rewritten upon remembering again and again. You had seen him like a monster for so long, before you nuanced your views like an adult, you diluted them, even. You tried to convince yourself you understood some parts of him, to comfort yourself.

What would you do then, if he really was a monster? What then, if he was worse than anything you remembered?

“You’re not alone.” Daryl whispered in your ear.

You turned your head towards him, tears already burning your eyes, heart beating strong, nausea grasping at your throat. “I know… I know.”

You placed your hand on the doorknob, taking a deep breath.

You knocked on the door with your other hand.

You opened the door.

The room had open windows, showing a tree and hills behind the city. It was the first thing you saw. Finally, your eyes slowly lowered to the medicalized bed, with the lying form on it. You didn’t recognize him.

It was an emaciated body, smooth and thin, with hair that had fallen for several years already. You heard it peacefully snore, deep breathing with no difficulty. You threw a look at Daryl before taking a step inside, as silently as possible. Your feet guided you towards the bed, though the feeling of seeing a stranger on it was almost unbearable. Daryl followed you distantly. You took a chair available in the room and invited Daryl to do the same. You sat next to the bed, observing the wrinkled face of that body you were trying to convince yourself was really your father.

Your clinical instinct soon got the upper hand on you, maybe as a defense mechanism. You stared at his face, looking for any trace of discomfort or pain, but his face was completely relaxed. You looked at the morphine pump next to the bed, pushing on buttons to get a look at the dosage, then observed the perfusion, the name of the meds. This man, your father, was perfectly well taken care of from the information you could see. You raised back to walk around the bed, looking at his urinary pouch. “Somethin’ wrong?” Daryl asked as softly as he could.

“He’s well taken care of.” You said, before getting back in your chair.

You waited and you couldn’t look away from the weak form that represented your father now. He had always seemed so imposing, so tall, especially when you were a child. He used to be terrifying, his anger making his skin as red as the devil. Now he was rather white, almost yellow. He looked like an expired spaghetti, with brown spots on his skin. Pathetic and fragile, the shadow of the man he used to be. If you had wanted to kill him with your bare hand at this instant, it would have been easy. But that wasn’t what you wanted. Even the idea of committing the illegal action of lowering his morphine to make him suffer didn’t appeal to you. You didn’t know what you were expecting at this instant, you just knew you needed to be there.

You cast a glance towards Daryl, who was looking at the landscape behind the window, before getting his eyes on you too. He offered a shy encouraging smile, then placed his hand on yours. You intertwined your hands gently. You could tell his smile was slightly forced, and you knew it was an unpleasant moment for him, but you appreciated his support. You desperately needed it. You couldn’t tell him, at this moment, how much it meant to you. You believed he knew.

After a while, the face of your father began to twist, and he opened his eyes briefly. You approached towards him with your chair, without daring to touch him at all. “Dad…” All that web of feelings had prevented you from feeling shame, but you felt it right there. When he looked at you, his eyes didn’t even recognize you at first. You were different, you weren’t a woman, you were some sort of monstrosity and you saw it reflected on his face. “You…” He blinked a couple of times, slowly getting out of his sleep, before looking for the remote of the bed with his hand. He stared at you a few more seconds, then pushed the buttons to straighten the top of the bed. He had a wet cough and stretched his perfused hand to get a glass of water. He took a sip. “… Didn’t expect you.”

Swallowing back the shame and self-hatred you suddenly felt, you protected yourself with a smile that wasn’t reaching your eyes. He recognized you however, maybe through Google search of his own. You didn’t know what to think about it, but it wasn’t really the time to dwell on it.

Not looking vulnerable, never.

“Elise told me you were here.” “I see.”

He finally saw Daryl behind you, and his brows furrowed in confusion. You could hear the animosity in his voice. “Is that..?” “Daryl, yes.” And you saw Daryl tense in the corner of your eye. “What’s he doing here?”

His voice got louder despite his weak form, and you hung to the present as best as you could. You breathed, your fingers grasping the guardrail of the bed despite yourself.

“He’s supporting me.” “Why d’you need support to see your father?” His tone felt deeply accusatory. "You know why.” You felt your heart beating faster and faster. “Because I’m dying?” “Because you scare me.” You admitted. Your tensed and frozen body struggled against fear.

He started laughing, loudly. He was mocking you, as if that had been the most absurd idea you could have had.

As if there had been no reason to be afraid at all.

As if he had never done anything to you, ever.

“Why would you be scared of me? I’m a dying old man.” “You know why.” “What did I do to you?”

You clenched your teeth, feeling physically sick. It wasn’t the way you had wanted things to go, but now you couldn’t stop anything from happening at all. You sighed, feeling your eyes burning, but you didn’t want to look weak, not in front of him.

“You hurt me.” You breathed. Words were hard to let go of your mouth. Mutism threatened to get a hold of your throat.

You heard him sneer. “We haven’t seen each other for what? Twenty years? You ran away with your little dickhead shit boyfriend because little missy wanted to be a grown man.”

You heard Daryl raising from his chair, and you did the same to place a hand on his chest, stopping him. “Don’t.” You said. He looked visibly uncomfortable and angry, and you couldn’t blame him. “You don’t have to put up with this shit.” His arms raised in a threat while he spoke and he stared daggers at your father. If you hadn’t been so anxious about this whole situation, you would have appreciated the sentiment and the attention he held for you. “I know.” You simply answered.

He sighed to release the pressure building in his body after a few seconds, then sat back down, crossing his arms to look at the landscape the window offered. You sat too, and you saw the mocking expression on your father’s face. You recognized it perfectly. It truly was him, behind this dying man’s mask.

“I know it hurt you that I’ve been gone for so long. But I’m here now. I didn’t leave for nothing. I didn’t leave because I wanted to be a man. I left because I felt this was the only way to survive.” “Survive what?” “Survive you.”

But you saw that this idea never crossed his mind at any point in his life, with the way his face contorted. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Despite the fact you had talked about this in the past, that had never changed.

It was impossible for him to acknowledge it.

You realized once again he didn’t understand the wrong he did to you.

You realized he would never understand.

No matter how many times you would confront him, no matter how much care and calm you would be while explaining it, this wouldn’t change.

He would die soon, without apologizing, without admitting, without accepting it.

You couldn’t answer anything, while looking at him, holding on your tears but feeling a runny nose. You wiped it with your arm, blinking, sniffling and swallowing your saliva.

You didn’t have the words.

After a few seconds, you heard Daryl break the silence in a roar, jumping from his chair like he just exploded, his arms in the air, pointing a finger to your father. “You fucking piece of shit! You used to slap him! You whipped and degraded him when he was just a kid!”

He came closer to the bed threateningly, and you wondered whether he would punch your father in the face. You probably wouldn’t prevent him from doing so, you neither had the strength nor the heart for it. However, when he saw your surprised and frightened face, his whole anger extinguished itself suddenly and completely. Breathing heavily, he turned around and stormed out, the bang of the door making you jump on your chair.

You stared back at your father.

“‘That what you told him?” “That’s what you did.” Your voice was as stable as possible. “You’re emotional like your damn drunkard mother was.” He coughed some more, then took a kidney dish to spit in it. “If you think so.” You lowered your gaze, defeated, submitting.

After the verbal fight, you had a bit of small talk, about nothing peculiar or really important. It was a way to change the topic from the present moment, and this rotten relationship. His funerals were already planned and paid. Rare enough to be of note, your father complimented you on the way you took care of the ER. It turned out that he often googled the hospital to see how patients rated it, and what kind of comment they would give to you. He saw positive comments. You never looked at those.

He had always been proud of you doing medicine, and it was in fact during that moment that you realized that his love and excitement for things happening to you were always conditioned to your success. To fitting. To be ‘normal’. And also to the idea you could write him a few checks if necessary.

Next to that, you were still trans, you were still in a relationship with a 'dickhead shit boyfriend', you stayed a little shit, a 'little missy' who 'wanted to be a grown man'.

You were completely drained, both emotionally and physically, as you stepped out of the room after a couple of dozens of minutes of doing small talk. When you closed the door behind you, you lied against it for comfort, feeling weak and lightheaded. You placed your head on the surface, seeing stars dancing in front of your eyes. Another assistant nurse came towards you and called you, before getting you to the family lounge. It was a little room where you could eat, with a table and chairs, one couch and even a TV. A space with some weird ambiance contrasting with the unit, which allowed families to rest.

You sat and asked where was Daryl, your partner. She answered he got out of the building, but that if she saw him roaming around, she would tell him to come here. You smiled at her when she asked you if everything was okay, and you tried to be reassuring.

She left the room when she was satisfied with your answer, leaving you alone.

Soon, you felt your breath itch, suddenly accelerating, the aftermath of the meeting coming right back at your face. Your respiration was getting away from you, you couldn’t control it anymore, you couldn’t breathe at all. You knew what it was, obviously, but it still invaded your whole body and your whole mind. You held your breath to fight it, but it wouldn’t work at all. Your head spun more and more, and you raised up from the chair to reach for the couch, lying down. You curled up, gasping for air. You couldn’t help but think that, maybe, you had invented it all. You didn’t have any scar like Daryl had, only your words, your memories, and your fear. What weight did any of that have, really?

You had been a sensitive child. This same sensitivity may have participated in making you a good healthcare professional, but you asked yourself, deep down, if your father was telling you the truth.

After all, you were like your mother: emotional and a freak.

[awkwarddaryl]

gif not mine

Y/N, snickering: Daryl has no idea that I’m drunk.

Daryl: You’re drunk?

Y/N, blinking: Oh. I’m sorry. One second.

Y/N, leaning the other direction towards Carol: Daryl has no idea that I’m drunk.

[awkwarddaryl]

gif not mine

Daryl: A’ight. Punch me in the face.

Y/N: Punch you?

Daryl: Yeah, punch me. Need to make this convincin’. Hurry up.

Y/N: In the face?

Daryl, sighing: Yeah. Didn’cha hear me?

Y/N: I always hear ‘punch me in the face’ while you’re speaking but it’s usually just subtext.

[awkwarddaryl]

There is Only Now - Chapter 16

Daryl Dixon x FtM!Reader Pronoun used ➤ "You", same age as Daryl, about late thirties. Song AO3 ➤ here First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

TW (general story) ➤ transphobia, homophobia, abuse, alcohol and drug abuse, mention of suicide, death.

Word count: 1.5k

You were highschool sweethearts, fled your abusive homes together, married. Then, Merle came back into Daryl's life and played a big role in your divorce. For the last three years, during Merle's death anniversary, you kept finding Daryl drinking in this bar. Today was Merle's fourth death anniversary, would you come for him this time? Or did you move on?

Just a warning, this is going to be a very existential and rather macabre few chapters. :)

You were too overwhelmed to react in any shape or form. The call ended on platitudes. Your father was at the hospital where you were working. No colleague would have been able to warn you because you had different family names. Nobody knew except you. With your phone now on your knees, you watched Daryl playing with the puppy, jumping on him to fight playfully, then doing a tug of war with a rope. But you were absent from this. You asked yourself so many times what kind of feeling would wash over you when your father inevitably reached the end of his life.

Anger? Sometimes you had had the fantasy of ending this life yourself, especially considering how vulnerable and weak he would finally be in his room. All that was needed was a cushion to place on his face. Fear? You told yourself you would probably not even come to see him. Not because of a fear of death, since your father made you think of your own mortality, but because seeing him gave you this urge to skin yourself. The idea of your colleagues taking care of him without knowing the grief and suffering he had caused you gave you nausea. You were afraid for them, for yourself, and even if you rationally knew he couldn’t do any more harm, that there was no reason they would suffer from his hand, you had doubts rooted in old wounds.

And then, there was Daryl. Even Dog. You didn’t want them to get close to him, not even when your father was so close to death.

Daryl raised his head towards you, and he seemed to guess something had happened. His brows furrowed, and he asked Dog to follow him, coming back to the bench you were sitting on. He sat next to you, Dog demanding pets before excitedly running back on the grass. Daryl threw a ball away to occupy him, before placing a hand on your back. You felt the comforting heat of his body, distantly. “You okay?” He asked after a moment of silence, but the answer was obvious.

“No,” you began, throat hoarse with emotions, “can’t talk about it right now”. Daryl placed a hand around your shoulders, bringing you close to him. Dog fetched the ball and got it back to his father, and Daryl threw it away once again, rubbing your arm with his free hand. You knew he would patiently wait for the moment you would be ready to actually talk, without rushing you. “You wanna get back home?” You absently looked at him before nodding.

Yes, maybe once inside, it would be easier.

--

During the travel back to Daryl’s home, you thought about how it had been more than twenty years since you had seen your father. You had seen pictures of him on a curious Google search, you had seen him grey haired and balding, old. It had reminded you of time passing, the degradation of living organisms, your own mortality, and it had touched you in a way that wouldn’t happen at the hospital. At the hospital, it was others. You had a comfortable distance from what was happening to your patients. Here, it was you.

And when you looked at the mirror inside the bathroom to clean your hands, you saw your father in the glass, staring back at you. It disgusted and disturbed you. This hadn’t been the first time, but the idea of turning into your father as you grew older was probably the worst feeling of it all. It felt inevitable, inescapable, even after fleeing, even after his death, he would still be stuck inside the mirror or on in pictures of yourself. You couldn’t remove him without removing yourself at the same time.

It was so many complex and contradicting emotions at the same time, ambivalence you knew as a witness of so many families, but you personally didn’t know how to word any of it. You didn’t know how to untangle the webs of feelings.

You went to Daryl’s bed without a word, and you lied down there. He let you do your thing, even brought you a glass of water on the nightstand, before getting on the bed near you. Eyes closed, you felt his rough hand in your hair, in your back. Daryl stayed close to you, and then you heard Dog climbing on the bed too. The overwhelming state in which you had been since the park had left you completely exhausted, but you couldn’t sleep. You felt the heat from their lives around you though, like blankets allowing you to keep breathing.

After a while, you felt like you needed to tell Daryl about it. It didn’t feel right to not say anything to him, after how much you worked together to rebuild your relationship. You were both teammates, you needed him, and you knew he would listen to you. “I…” You began, and you felt Daryl straightening a bit to look at your face. You turned towards him, fleeing his attentive and worried face. “I got a call from my stepmother,” you began, feeling your voice trembling, words hard to say, “my father’s gonna die. Soon, I mean.” You dared looking at him then, watching his face contort in surprise and even more worried. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to hesitate awhile.

“What d’you need?” He ended up asking in a whisper.

You rubbed your eyes, feeling the corner getting wet. “Not sure…”

“Wanna see him?” “I don’t know.”

Many times, you had seen families not traveling to see their dying loved ones. You already knew back then that it didn’t anything about the worth of that family, because situations could be extremely complicated. Yours was, after all. Death brought back the past, and the past brought back traumas, like zombies hitting on the doors of their heart. They were trying to get inside, and sometimes even devoured entire families, leaving them in pieces after coming out of the patient’s room. You could see them, those dead monsters close to you, those memories that led you to break contact, that kept you in this state of fear, looking over your shoulder in case he was here again. You shivered as a flash of memory from your childhood came back to you, and Daryl felt it, putting his arms around you in a tender way. You put your head against his chest, listening to his heart beating.

It was reassuring, having him against you, feeling safe and unconditionally loved. That was something that hadn’t happened before you fled with Daryl, back then when you were young. Respect was conditioned to excellent results, your worth to the way you could benefit your father in the future. You were not truly a child with a personality, needs, and feelings. You were an investment, and a disappointing one at that. There were so many indescribable and incomprehensible things that you felt Daryl understood within you, even back when you were just teenagers. It was probably because of your respective families, but every time there was this display of affection, loyalty and perceptiveness, you felt truly seen, truly understood. It soothed you more than anything else in the world. It diminished that white noise, those zombies near your heart. With one look, with one attention.

“You don’t have to go.” He said after a while. You nodded against his T-shirt, breathing his comforting smell, placing a gentle hand on his hip. “I know,” you answered, words muffled against him, “but I’m afraid I’ll regret it if I don’t.”

You weren’t even sure what you were expecting from all of that. After twenty years, when he only knew you from before your transition, he wouldn’t even recognize you. Maybe from your voice because you had maintained a distant contact once in a while on the phone, but nothing more. Maybe he had cognitive issues since then. Maybe he forgot about you. Maybe he would refuse to see you.

Maybe it was the last opportunity to hear him say he was sorry for everything he did to you.

Maybe it was what truly made you feel afraid, in the end. This toxic hope, this disappointed hope, this pointless hope. Yet, it still gripped your heart. How long did you wait for that to happen? All of your life.

“I think I need to see him.” You ended up saying.

You felt a kiss on the top of your head, Daryl stroking your hair and your face lovingly. “Do you want me to come with you?”

The fear was still here. What if he harmed Daryl in some way? Even weak and vulnerable, you couldn’t shake the feeling of your father finding a way. Still, you knew you would crumble if Daryl didn’t accompany you. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. You felt guilt, but you pushed through because you needed him, and you knew he honestly wanted to come to help. “I… I think I do.”

You stayed this way for long minutes, taking advantage of this present moment without caring about the hour or anything else happening outside the room. You had this irrational fear for Daryl, but you needed him so much.

Now a bit more reassured and comforted, you fell asleep against him. Sadly, dreams of the past haunted you once again.

Screams.

Hits.

Fear.

Escape.

[awkwarddaryl]