Daryl Dixon X F!Reader: Together Apart Ch.3

thinking about amnesia eric from season 4… he was so softtt

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Yes! Don't you ever ever ever feel bad about wanting the classics. One bed is hot and will never go out of style ✊

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.5

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: You and Daryl grow closer due to feeling out of place in Alexandria. Just when you think you have the old Daryl back, he leaves.

Notes: I think the chapter after this one will be the last chapter, and finally have some cheesy old fashion love making :D Sorry Daryl vanishes at the end tho ):

It never seemed to end for him. In front of everyone else he was silent, emotionless, an empty body on autopilot. But when you'd walk off into the trees to search for water, it always hit him, no matter how many times he'd thought he'd cried out all out and was done with it. 

He clung to you after her death like never before, constantly walking in your shadow and wordlessly begging for some sort of comfort, reassurance, anything. You did the best you could, which ended up being more than either of you expected. You seamlessly morphed into the familiar elder sister role, mirroring the ways you would comfort your bruised baby brother. 

He put a cigarette out on his hand the one time he went off by himself, and not following him was something you came to regret. 

“Daryl,” the whisper of your voice had him cringing, the sound too empathetic and full of concern, he had to fight to keep himself from cracking when your comfort washed over him. 

“I know… I'm not good with words, or shit like this.” You sighed, maintaining a quiet tone, low enough for the sound of rain and the crackle of fire to cover. 

Daryl remained silent as you spoke. He picked at the skin around his fingers, looking down at his hands in his lap, and the sight of your smaller hand lightly touching his wrist makes him jerk. 

“I can't take away your pain, God knows I'd kill every goddamn piece of shit alive to make you feel better.” Your voice turned shaky, and the urge to cry was becoming overwhelming for the both of you. “But... I can promise you, you'll never have to worry about losing me. I just want you to know, I'm that one thing you don't need to worry about. I always will be.” 

Daryl slowly inhaled through his stuffy nose and nodded, the noise dry and shaky, his eyes burning and unblinking from their gaze on your hand. 

“I know.” He finally spoke and nodded again, as if that would magically set it in stone. “Me too.”

Slipping back into your place in the group dynamic was unpleasant after being alone with Gabriel for that long. It wasn't just one person you had to make an effort for anymore, and deep down you despised it. It was almost comparable to going back to school after summer break. You had to play by the rules again, fit into their perfect perception or risk repercussions. 

The discovery of Eugenes lies was all but a surprise to you. You didn't have some wild sense of intuition, you were just a pessimistic person. Although you kept your opinions to yourself, you didn't predict the extent of how deep his lies had been. The cure was a given, obviously, but the fact he lied about being a scientist as well? Lied about the safe place in Washington too? It took everything you had in you not to cave his face in when you saw the look of disappointment on Daryl's face. That's another reason why you hated being in a group. People didn't deserve to be able to let you down, and sure as hell not the one person you gave a shit about. 

People love to parrot that same ‘it has to get worse before it can get better’ bullshit you'd been told by concerned and empathetic authority figures all throughout your childhood. Safe to say it had lost its meaning to you, even when Daryl tried to lift your spirits. 

Well, it sure got better for everyone else. 

You weren't alone in your suspicions about Aaron. For once Rick and you agreed on something, it was a bad idea to go to Alexandria. But the group convinced him to take a chance, that the rewards greatly outweigh the risks, and you watched with a disapproving glare as Aaron led you all past the gates. 

“I'm just going to ask you a few simple questions, get to know you. You don't mind if I record this, do you?” 

You had a feeling your answer wouldn't make any difference, no matter what you said. You shook your head as you watched Deanna turn her video camera on, the big black lens feeling like an intimidating pit waiting to swallow you up if you gave an answer she didn't like. She rounded the couch and sat down, a tight and professional smile on her lips. 

“Let's start with your name.”

You told her your name, trying to behave despite your stomach growling and the sudden awareness that you smelled and looked awful. 

“Where are you from,” She repeated your name. 

“Georgia. Up North.” 

“Did you work?”

“No.”

“What were you before the outbreak?” When you didn't answer, she elaborated. “Were you a student in school, staying at home, traveling…?”

“After high school I stayed home for a couple years. Took care of my mom.” 

“I understand you're close with Daryl, is that right?” 

You must've visibly reacted to that question, because even after you answered, she pressed for more information.

“Did you grow up together?”

“Kind of, we weren't really friends or anything. He lived nearby and I'd see him around.”

Deanna nodded as if she was your therapist listening to some deep-seated trauma. 

“Did you ask anyone else these questions?” You scratched the back of your arm, beginning to feel uncomfortable. 

“I ask everyone all kinds of questions. I want to get to know you all, it's not an interrogation. You don't need to answer any that you don't want to.”

She finally changed the subject to your relationship with Rick's group. Not that you were eager to talk about it, but at least she wasn't grilling you on Daryl anymore. 

“I've been here since before Rick came and took over. Back in Atlanta. Daryl and his brother Merle came to get me when it happened. I thought maybe they were having some bad trip or somethin'. Ran into my house yelling about dead folks coming back to life and eating people. If it wasn't for them, I'd probably be dead too, but, I think they mainly came to get me because they knew my mom had a stash of cigarettes and drugs.” You were chuckling as you spoke, not realizing you had given up so much information without her even asking. You instantly shut up, the amused smile leaving your face. 

“How do you get along with other members of your group?”

You cringed at the phrasing. They weren't your group, they were Daryl's people, you were just a temporary guest without a set time to leave. 

“Fine. Haven't heard any complaints. Have you?”

“No. But I have heard you don't work well with others.” 

You shrugged. 

“Do you want to be here?” The way she would use your name at the end of every few sentences was starting to get under your skin. 

“I'm kinda stuck with wherever Daryl wants to be.” 

Deanna ended the interview after a handful of other unimportant questions and you were allowed to leave, led to your new house by one of her son's. 

You took the longest and hottest shower of your life, only getting out when Abraham started pounding on the door. It brought back that same feeling of anxiety you'd get when your mother would bang on your locked door in a fit of anger. You nearly ran him over when you burst out of the bathroom, making him drop his change of clothes and call out a disgruntled complaint. 

“Who the hell is this?” 

Daryl looked up from his bag to see you looking down at him, a teasing grin on your fresh face. The image of you being all cleaned up had him momentarily stunned. It had been a while since either of you had seen each other clean like that. 

“Daryl? No way, where's your grease?” You toyed with his damp hair before sitting next to him on the floor near the fireplace, where he'd decided to sleep for the night. 

“Nah, I don't know you. Ya don't smell like bloody rabbits.” He retorted, leaning in to dramatically sniff at you. “The hell is that? Shampoo?”

“Uh, it's shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotion, and toothpaste.” You replied, giving an exaggerated smile to show your clean teeth. 

You shared a few chuckles and jokes as the rest of the group cleaned up and prepared for bed. Even though you couldn't stand the place or the new people in it, the prospect of having your own room with an actual bed had you buzzing with excitement. 

Sleeping next to Daryl wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you. It was an arrangement that happened more nights than not. But sleeping next to Daryl in a safe house, wrapped in clean clothes, soft blankets, and not even the slightest whiff of the outdoors? It was overwhelming. 

You turned on your side to face him, watching as he stared up at the ceiling, the dark room filled with the familiar ambiance of gentle snoring and breathing. Daryl always slept after everyone else, and that night was no exception. 

Despite your instincts telling you not to, you wiggled on the blanket to move closer to him, nuzzling your face in his nearly dry hair, closing your eyes as you inhaled his clean scent. 

He stiffened at first, an automatic reaction which soon faded and he relaxed, tilting his head until his cheek rested against your forehead. He could barely feel the warm tickle of your breath under his jaw, the feeling soliciting a subliminal relaxation. His eyes closed then, and he listened to the barely audible whistle of your nose. He listened as the whistle got softer, slower, and nearly disappeared altogether as you fell asleep. 

Daryl made sure to untangle himself from you the next morning, before anyone else had the chance to wake up and witness your private bond. No one deserved to see that part of him or you, it was intended for the two of you alone, something deeper and more personal than anyone would understand. 

Adjusting to being around people was a challenge that went all the way back to school. Even in Atlanta you struggled with it, going from being a hermit with your sick mother to an adult in a large group of people, it felt like your first day of school all over again. 

That was all nothing compared to being in Alexandria. Not only were you surrounded by people that annoyed you, but another larger group of people you knew absolutely nothing about. 

They bestowed heavy responsibilities on you as well. It wasn't just scraping by washing clothes and hunting, it was work. Hard work. Wall building, gardening, work inside Alexandria, work outside their walls, near constant supply runs, and cooking. 

Parties. Pasta for dinner. A seemingly limitless flow of sparkling amber champagne. Some kid was walking their fucking pet dog on the sidewalk. 

It felt insulting. Their first impression on you firmly implemented your personal views towards them. Spoiled, weak, wearing faces of false persona, wives chittering like hens with warm knowing smirks. Husbands and men who always smiled like the sun, going out of their way to do things they considered nice for you, then putting on a somber and humble face if anyone had praised their hard work, dedication, and sacrifices. Sacrifices that basically ensued going to the grocery store. 

You hated it. You hated them, you hated their kids, you hated their houses that looked like mansions to you, and you hated the way Rick's group treated it like they'd walked through the bright pearly gates and not the glorified pretentious prison that it was. 

To your relief Daryl didn't quite like it either. 

“They invited us to what?” You didn't believe him when he said it to you as he stared around your new room. 

“Said it was a welcoming party.” He grunted, fingers picking at the edges of a tacky poster of a puppy on the wall. 

“A party? What do you mean a party?” 

“Dunno.” He sighed, throwing his hands up in muted exasperation. “S’jus what she said.” She being Deanna, the same woman who took away your guns, which yours had grown to be quite the impressive collection. But you being your hardened and sneaky self, you'd managed to smuggle two of your handguns into your room. Daryl got to keep his crossbow, of course, and you your own recurve bow, it was the bare minimum aside from your knives, which the others were allowed to keep as well. Sadly, you'd end up breaking that bow a few days later by slinging it at Pete's head.

“And everyone's going?” You pressed on from your seat on the bedroom dresser. 

“Dunno. Goddamn, told you what she told me, you know s’much as I do.” 

You went to the party. Of fucking course you would, they had full on meals with all the food groups, they had alcohol, they had little appetizers and finger foods you'd only ever seen on tv and in magazines, you'd be an idiot not to. The only con was the house was stuffed with people. You could barely make it two steps without bumping into a new face. 

You didn't stay long at all, leaving the second your stomach felt full, and you had a decent buzz going on. You snuck out the back door and snagged the half empty bottle of champagne on your way out. 

“Ya went?” Daryl was surprised to see you walking down the sidewalk in new clothes. The black button up hung a little loose on you, the sleeves bunched up around your elbows, the hem falling all the way past your ass. 

“I may not like those people, but they make some damn good casserole.” You snickered, popping out the metal reusable cork and taking a deep drink. 

Daryl grabbed the bottle from your outstretched hand and downed nearly the whole damn thing in three gulps. 

“Yeah yeah. Go on, help yourself.” 

He gave a weak grin at your playful scoff before handing the bottle back to you. 

“You remember what I said back in Atlanta.”

You looked to your side at Daryl as the two of you walked down the dimly lit path back to your new residence. “Gotta be more specific.” 

“Bout takin’ their shit an’ hauling ass outta there.” 

“Yeah. One of my biggest regrets is talking you out of it.” You sighed, your tone no longer playful and lighthearted. “We could be all the way across the country by now. Would still have Merle bitching out ears off and ranting about some racist conspiracy theory.” 

Daryl suddenly chuckled. “You ‘member that time he was tryin’ to come up with slurs for walkers?” His amused grin spread further when you erupted into laughter at the memory. “What was it he called ‘em? Rotters? Pus-suckers?”

“Yeah, those were some of the tamer ones.” At the time you'd been annoyed by Merle's constant need to remind you that the three of you were better and more superior than anything and anyone around you, but all this time without him and his humorous outlook on life, you missed it. You even missed when he'd belittle you, at the end of the day he still was sexist, despite the obvious care he held for you. 

“Why'd you ask though?” 

“Dunno.”

“Daryl.”

“Everyone's safe now, ain't gotta worry about ‘em anymore.” 

You kept quiet as he fought for the words to convey his thoughts. It was obvious he felt like the odd man out again, it was impossible not to, in a place as nice as Alexandria. The rest of the group had effortlessly slipped into their places in the new environment, if you were an onlooker, it would look as if time had frozen in place for the small neighborhood and its citizens. 

But Daryl, and you, it wasn't easy like that. You never had a normal life like this, so you had no default state to regress to. Daryl had only changed a little since the start, and you hadn't changed much at all. Your skin felt like it was burning with electricity at the insinuation in his words. 

“I'll go wherever you go, you know that.” You nodded firmly. “Just say the word.”

He ended up going to Carol with his vague plan, and then Rick. You don't know what they said to him, but the next morning he told you he wanted to give it a few days before he made his decision.

You should've just made the decision for him. You should have grabbed your stuff, packed your bags, and stole one of their cars and left. Because a few days turned into a hell of a lot longer. 

It wasn't all bad, the two of you grew even closer due to his feelings of being an outcast once again surfacing. It was the same for you, which caused you to cling onto him tighter than before. You slept on the same ratty mattress in your room, sometimes cuddling, but most of the time on separate ends.

You watched more people die around you, which was something you'd become bitterly accustomed to. Aiden, one of Deanna’s sons, and Noah, who you'd never spoken to before. Rick made some trouble for himself getting wrapped up in the wife of the town surgeon, and all hell broke loose after that. Pete lost his shit and accidentally killed Deanna's husband, and Rick killed Pete. As if there hadn't been enough blood shed, a hoard of walkers became an issue just as things started to calm down. 

You didn't like the role that'd been assigned to you. You were being seen and tasked as a protector, sent out by Rick with Abraham and a handful of others to build strategic walls for his master plan of relocating the hoard. 

Another thing you didn't like was the way people's views towards you changed. People who once never even spared you a second thought were speaking to you, making an effort to get to know you, and it was just as unsettling as that time Rick invited you over for dinner. 

“Too pretty to be so sad all the time.” Abraham had said once as you dug a hole for the wooden pillar. 

“I'm not sad.” You muttered, stepping back as three men lifted the wood into the hole. You poured in the instant concrete and took your gloves off to get a drink of water.

“So you just always have that sour look on your face then, huh?” 

“Only when I'm around people I don't know.” Or like, you thought to yourself. 

“I've known you for how long now? Course you know me. And Sasha, and Rosita, and-”

“You're people I'm stuck with. Doesn't mean I know you.” 

“Tsh.” He snorted, folding his massive arms across his equally massive chest. “So you're just a bitch then?” 

“Yeah.” 

One would think that conversation would've been enough to get the point across. No, sadly, it only made things worse. Rick ended up giving you jobs with more people, and you quickly caught onto the convenient way Daryl was almost never in those assigned groups. 

Rick was in charge, that was undebatable, but he wasn't in charge of your free will. You did your work as he asked, most of the time faster than expected, and spent every second of your free time with Daryl, even if it meant pulling four different jobs a day. 

It worked like that for a while, and eventually you did begin to change. Not you exactly, moreso your attitude had changed. You became less closed off, no longer baring teeth and claws as a constant warning. You actually enjoyed spending time with Abraham, as he was one of the only people that called you out for being shitty, he wasn't scared of your mean mug or the harsh bite of your words. It wasn't just Abraham you started to like. Maggie, Carol, Rosita, Michonne, and sometimes Tara, the small group shifted from strangers to acquaintances, some would call you their friend. They'd eventually worn down your hard exterior and you experimented a little with conversation and generosity. Carol was the exception, it was you who had to pursue her. Trying to become genuine friends with her was hard, it made you realize how hard everyone else had been trying with you. 

You even started decorating your room a bit. Nothing fancy, just a few homemade shelves and displays for your numerous weapons. You made a special one above your futon, the only object it held was the small gold tinted shell of a used bullet. 

All good things must come to an end. 

You sat alone in your shared room for the third night in a row, silent on your lumpy mattress, your eyes burning in effort to hold back tears. 

He hadn't even told you he was leaving. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

Alone Time

Summary: Daryl needs some time alone in the woods.

Length: 2388 words

Era: Not important, Post Prison-ish?

Warnings: Mature content 18+, Male solo, thigh riding, fantasy.

Daryl PoV, Unnamed female pronouns

A/N: One of the last (if not the last) Daryl pov stories I had planned. Just finally finished it.

Daryl watched her roll on to her side, a soft sigh tumbling from her parted lips. She was dozing, just like everyone else except him and the second watch of the night. After the long day they'd had and then with her making him carry all of her shit on top of it he should have passed out damn near instantly, but that fuckin' girl was in his head. That seemed to be happening more and more. Wouldn't bother him so much if it was the usual day-to-day shit they had to worry about, but this was something different. Something he shouldn't be thinking about.

It wasn't like he meant to. He tried thinking about anything else but when he closed his eyes all he could see were little soundless clips of her his subconscious collected through the day. The way her big doe eyes looked up at him as she pleaded for him to carry her clothes in his bag because she wanted more room to carry books they found or the ruddy flush of her cheeks when she was struggling to keep up with him in the woods. It was these little things that made his cock stir and curse god that he had a half decent memory.

The more he tries to sleep the more he recalls and the more he recalls the more his cock begins to ache. The way her teeth catch her bottom lip when he's telling her some stupid story he doesn't even care about. The color deepening the longer he talks until by the end those lips look kiss swollen and red. He shouldn't even be thinking about her because she's just a friend. He almost snorts because friends don't think about how those lips would taste. No, he ain't sleepin', not like this. He needs to clear his head.

Sitting up makes the very source of his uncalled for fascination stir. "Daryl...?" his name on her lips makes his cock spasm.

"Back t' sleep." he tells her. It's barely a rasp is sound but she moans a tired hum of agreement that's a shot of lightning down his spine. Fuck clearing his head! There ain't no sleepin'. Not after that. He grabs his backpack and his crossbow, a sick idea forming somewhere in the back of his skull. If he doesn't move now he'll talk himself out of it but he has to get her off of his mind. He needs to sleep. He tosses a languid hand up to whoever is on watch before vanishing into the trees lining the old road.

Reckless is what this is, sheer fuckin' stupid. He keeps heading deeper into the trees until the group is out of sight and the firelight is just a faint winking dot. He's far enough away that he can hear them if one of them yells, but out here he's alone. No group to worry about, no girl to drive him wild, just him and his backpack and his hand.

He's disgusting for this. He tells himself that even as he palms his length over his jeans and has to choke back the sound that nearly left him. She's just a friend. She understands that side of him he's only ever been able to share with a small few and here he is thinking about what her tits would feel like smashed against his chest. Disgusting doesn't cover it but he can't help it, not now.

"Fuck..." it leaves his mouth as a sigh. He needs to go back to the group, lay back down next to her and pretend this hasn't happened. He won't though, it feels too good and he needs her too bad. Uttering a curse he drops his crossbow to the ground, sliding the back pack off his shoulders so he can lean against the tree proper. He's still palming himself, flexing his fingers around his length, the friction just heavy enough to wipe out most thought until he looks at the bag again. The blood rushes from his face, a soft trill of excitement running over his shoulders and down his spine. Her clothes are still in there.

He shouldn't.

God knows he shouldn't but he was going to.

Movements stiff and jerky he opens the zipper at his feet and fishes for the first piece of material inside. Even in the dark he knows exactly what his fingers find just by the feel of it, that ugly yellow shirt. It takes him only a second to press it to his nose, the smell of her intoxicating and overwhelming, bringing fresh life to the gentle images of her he was conjuring. His cock pulses, throbs. He leans his head back staring at the material balled in his fist. If she knew she might hate him. She might never talk to him again but her scent is tickling his nose and his cock demanding satisfaction from a woman he can't have.

He's imagining her there now; leaning against the tree across from him, head tilted back looking down her nose. Her delicate fingers toying with the end of her shirt that's barely covering her pussy and her teeth catching her lip turning it oh, so red again. He should put away her shirt, go back to the group and forget about all of this but that image is branded behind closed eyes and he just-- can't. Uttering a whispered curse he starts pulling on his belt until he shoves his pants down his hips just enough to free his dick. It's weeping at the thought of her closing the distance, practically dripping at the thought of her crawling into his lap.

He knows what she would think if she found him. He's a pervert. Daryl is repeating it in his head even as he spits in his hand and grips his length. Doesn't matter what she thinks now because whatever was left of him that felt actual shame was gone now and in his head all he can see is her. She's breathing against his ear, soft shallow pants with his knee between her legs. He's gripping her hips to keep her there, to encourage her to rock against him because as badly as he wants to be in her, he needs to see her, needs to see more.

Daryl is desperate to see that wanton pink flush tinting her cheeks, her lips parted in a tiny 'oh' as she grinds down on him. He won't kiss her, not yet. He won't do that until he's buried in her. He's too infatuated with the hazy hooded look of her eyes to think of missing the soft flutter of her lashes.

That makes him groan. His lips press in a thin line as he strokes himself in time with the imaginary version of her, no longer teasing himself with slow strokes. He's a fuckin' teenager all over again thinking about the dampness between her legs smearing over his jeans as she bears down on him. Her head falling back, a throaty moan breaking up her labored breath as her chest juts in his face. Pumping his cock he needs to see her get off. He needs her to use him, to make him a fuck toy for only her pleasure.

Daryl takes the shirt in his hand and buries his face in it taking the smell of her deep into his lungs. His muscles are shaking, straining, and he has to lean back against the tree trunk, bark scraping at his biceps. He pretends that it's her nails and not the tree biting at his shoulders. He wants to cum but it's way too soon. Not yet! Not yet. Not yet...

He stops breathing her in and spits on his palm again, a sticky glob that mixes with the wetness of his tip. He fists himself again pushing the cloth back against his mouth, tongue tasting the salt still lingering in the fabric. He's imagining it as her skin, pressing his face against her breasts, whining as he nips tender flesh. She's close, so fucking close and he can't breathe but he'd die happy. If this was love then he could learn it.

She's pulling his hair, forcing his gaze upwards to watch as her rhythm stutters in an uneven dance as she chases her high. Breath catching as she rides him, she's the most dazzling thing he's ever seen. He's awestruck as she goes rigid, chest flushed red as her back bows and there's a split second while she's frozen with pleasure tearing through her that he wants to capture forever. This is beauty, a painting he can finally appreciate in all its splendor. Then all too fast that second is over and she's gasping for air as she bucks against him but then comes the knowing that he can give her what she wants, that his body is enough for her. It's a sick sort of satisfaction, a joy, thrumming in his chest when she falls against him half out of her head from cumming on his thigh. His thigh.

He needs her. Standing there in the middle of the woods with his cock in his hand and her shirt to his nose he's never needed anything more. Now he wants to take as much as she's willing to give.Laying her down on the ground she's watching him with glazed sated eyes, tiny creases at the edge of a smile. He needs to know the greedy suck of her mouth, the press of her teeth swollen lips kissing his crown. He needs to see those ruddy cheeks bulge with his cock as he fucks the shallow of her mouth, her tongue laving his shaft. He needs, he needs, he needs…

His knees are weak, his vest catching on bark as he slips down to the ground. He's choking on the smell of her, the shirt damp from his breath as he fucks in to his tight fist. Behind his closed eyes all he can see are the sloppy strings of saliva connecting them both as her grabby hands try to bring him back. He's whimpering into the shirt, pleading with himself not to finish. He wants to drown in her and with her but his cock is so sensitive it nearly burns as he pumps furiously.

And her? She’s just lying there, her hair haloed around her head like a crown as she whispers filthy things that all too sweet smile narrowing her puffy eyes. She's praising him, her naughty boy, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He zeros in on that, the words. He's groaning, the sound muffled by the cloth. “Naughty boy. Naughty boy. Naughty boy.” It's on a loop, her eyes wild with fascination when his body shakes. His breath seizes. Her hand covers his as she looks up at him demanding his full attention as she says, “Cum baby.”

He does.

His shoulders bow inward, hips thrusting at the air as thick ropes of spend hit the ground between his booted feet. Daryl tries to stifle the sound he makes before he's choking from the force of his orgasm, unable to breath as his abdomen clenches over and over, hips twitching as he cums and cums. Her shirt falls from a loose grip as he slumps, his whole body sensitive and shaking. He's ruined and whole and ruined again, completely and utterly spent on the forest floor.

Daryl uses his bandana to clean off his shaking hands enough to light a cigarette and he fumbles the lighter twice before he gets it right. It takes him the entire thing before he can make himself stuff her shirt back in his bag and put away his dick. How the fuck was he going to look her in the eyes? How was he going to be able to see anything other than her spread out on the floor below him with her knees pressed together with want?

He'd figure it out tomorrow. Had to. It wasn't like he could avoid her, they were traveling together. The only good thing that came of him emptying his balls (other than blowing his own damn mind) was that he was tired now. Tired enough to sleep until morning and he was going to enjoy that rarity even if it was only because he didn't know if he could meet her eyes.

He groaned as he stood, his legs fighting to sit back down the entire walk back to the fire's edge. The watch had switched and was adding twigs to the flame to keep it going. If they knew what Daryl had just done they didn't say, just a nod of acknowledgement that he hadn't died and that was more than enough for him. Now all he had to do was tip-toe back to his spot on the fringes and pray he didn't wake her up.

He was careful setting his stuff down, his movements as slow and steady as he could manage praying to any god that would listen that she wouldn't wake up. Frowning he eased down on the ground next to her, the starring role of his forbidden fantasy. He'd made it to his back before she stirred beside him and without opening her eyes she whispered to him, "I'm cold." His heart slammed into his throat, his sluggish mind struggling to come up with something, anything to say to her.

“Don' care.” He muttered. Closing his eyes he silently admonished himself. He could've tried to be a little nicer but it didn't matter because she was already scooting over. She snuggled up to him, slipping her hand under his shirt to rest on his belly. “God dammit woman!” He hissed but not because it was cold.

She hushed him, pressing her body up against his side. “Daryl, go to sleep.”

Only now he couldn't because her touch was electric, tiny sparks of it dancing across his chest stirring up a weird feeling in his rib cage. He sighed, resigned to his fate, a punishment from God probably for what he did only minutes ago and stared up at the stars above them trying to count them. Anything to pretend he wasn't honed in on the pads of her fingertips drawing tiny circles near his naval.

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.4

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: Daryl starts changing, and Beth brings up the embarrassing memory of your kiss with Daryl back at the farm. The Governer has his final attack, and you crash at a church.

Notes: Starts with Beth at the prison, flashback to super awkward kiss with Daryl, ends with Beth at the hospital. ):

The change was subtle at first, but that doesn't mean you didn't notice it. You just ignored it in the desperate hopes that it wouldn't get any worse.

You had quite a few months of peace. Maybe half a year? You couldn't be sure at that point, but you did know that spring had turned to fall, and with it the idea of permanently residing in the prison becoming something you were content with. You still kept to yourself and Daryl, but you did pick up some extra chores. Instead of the bare minimum you chose jobs you could do outside, or jobs Daryl had taken. If you weren't tending to the gardens, you were with him in the woods, hunting or scavenging, even foraging on the occasion when prey was scarce. 

“Are you and Daryl together?’ Beth had asked so bluntly that you didn't have the mental capability to laugh or curse her out. You stopped picking cherry tomatoes and furrowed your brows in confusion. 

“Why would you ask me that?” 

Beth had a tight and timid smile, shrugging her shoulders and placing another cucumber in her basket. “You two are always around each other, that's all.” 

You shook off the feeling of vulnerability and sucked your teeth. “No. He's just the only one around here who I can stand.”

“Can you stand me?”

You looked at her over the row of chest high plants, seeing her hesitant expression. “Yes. I wouldn't’ve let you join me if that wasn't the case.” It wasn't a lie, you didn't mind being around Beth, even if you think she was the one of the weakest and most naive. Eventually you'd come to the realization that you had her all wrong, in fact, she was stronger than you. At least in the sense of emotional capability. 

Later that week she would end up giving you unwanted advice. She claimed that building walls and keeping everyone out besides yourself would kill you one day, much like the real world, you needed to allow yourself to rely on and trust others. You'd grow angry at her then, lashing out and telling her to mind her own business, you didn't need a therapist. She soon managed to turn into the first person you would apologize to and seek forgiveness from. 

Her questioning of the relationship between you and Daryl had your mind wandering to that night back at her fathers farm.

It was late. Daryl was still recovering from his gunshot wound but he wanted out of that damn house, so he settled for the next best thing to his tent, the back of the RV. Carol insisted he stay nearby, which you agreed to silently, and he begrudgingly accepted. 

You brought him a plate of dinner and sat in the chair next to him, sliding it over before taking one of the small boiled potatoes and popping it in your mouth.

“The hell you wearin’?” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Both pairs of pants were dirty and i didnt feel like walking around camp with my ass out.” You glanced down at the modest dress you’d been leant. You didn't mind it all that much, it was scratchy and tight, but it was kind of pretty. It was a warm yellow dress that ended below your knees with little white flowers and dots. You never really got to wear dresses growing up. 

“Huh.” Daryl muttered and raised an eyebrow at the imagery, raising his fork of chicken and carrots to his mouth. “Yeah. Don’t need another reason to knock Shane on his ass.”

“Shane? He hates me.” You snorted. “Would probably put a bullet in my skull if he could get away with it.”

“He’s still a man. Don’t matter how you feel about a woman, s’all the same seein’ her naked.”

“Ew, Daryl.” 

“S’true.”

“Yeah? What about you? You wouldn’t see me that way.”

Daryl’s eyes shot up from his plate. He was silent, and that alone had your heart racing, your lips parting, your mind swimming in hundreds of different thoughts. He opened his mouth to speak. 

“I ain’t no pillow biter.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“Means I’m not a homosexual. Course I’d… can ya jus’ shut up?”

“I wasn't even speaking.” You tried not to laugh at the way Daryl said the word homosexual, like it was some exotic foreign mystery to him. It wasn’t hateful or disgusted in the way his brother would refer to them. 

It was quiet for a moment before you noticed he was wincing when he’d chew. 

“You hurting?” You asked, already reaching in your side pouch for the small baggie of painkillers Hershel had given you to give to Daryl when needed. 

“Nah. M’fine. Quit worryin’ so much.”

You scooted around the table until you could squeeze in beside him. He grunted in annoyance and slid over to give you more room, his eyes on the hem of your dress at your knees.

“Surprised you haven't scratched that thing off already.” You snorted and reached out to gently peel the bottom of his bandage up after he gave you a nod of approval. “Lookin’ good. Another surprise.”

“Ain’t no damn dog, haven’t been touchin’ it.” He rolled his eyes, trying not to feel uncomfortable  with the way your thigh pressed against his. After all these years of knowing you, feeling perfectly comfortable snuggled all up with you in the same tent, now was the time his body chose to acknowledge the fact that you were a woman?

He begrudgingly took the two small white pills from your hand and crunched them up in his mouth. He was eager for the painkillers to hopefully kill what little libido he had in him. 

It did its job, taking away the aching and throbbing from his skull, warming his body and reminding him why Merle used to love those things. He was suddenly optimistic, relaxed, filled with a fuzzy warm feeling of euphoria. Daryl cleared his throat and drug his eyes up to your face, watching as you snuck a stolen blueberry past your lips.

He acted without thinking and kissed you. It was clumsy, weird, awkward, all the things you’d expect from a boy's first kiss. You didn't move at first, your eyes wide and your hand hanging midair. You were too stunned to move. 

Daryl pulled back as if he’d been slapped. He muttered something, his face hot and red, waving his hand to signal you to leave. You were still too stunned to move. It took him raising his voice for you to snap out of it, dozens of thoughts and emotions flooding you all at once, fear, regret, hope, a stomach full of butterflies and your heart stuck in your tight throat. You muttered an apology before leaving.

Life loves giving you the shit end of the stick. 

That was another one of your problems, due to your near constant state of being a real victim growing up. Life had groomed you into an unhealthy behavior of always thinking you were the one who had it the worst, no matter what.  In reality you had it pretty good. After the Governors final attack you weren't one of the unlucky many that went through further trauma. You found a church after a while of being by yourself and broke into it. 

It was just your luck that the only human inside of it was a cowardly priest. He was thrilled to have someone like you with him after being alone so long, even though he didn't show it, you were a skilled hunter and offered food and protection in exchange for secure shelter. He also appreciated that you didn't speak much, and never questioned the suspicious markings and scratches around the exterior of all the windows. 

He'd complained once about your use of language in the church, and you responded by a snarky middle finger. 

You could've used a good wake up call, as sick as it was to say. Maybe if you'd been in Daryl's place, growing close to a girl such as Beth and then losing her, maybe you would've changed. Or if you were in Michonne's place, forced to watch the boy you'd come to love dance a hair away from one of the worst fates possible. Shit, maybe even Maggie, maybe if you were the one who had to go through hell and back to find your husband, maybe then you'd go through the emotional torture you so desperately needed for positive character growth. 

Life didn't work that way though, and you had it easy. So easy that the boredom was quick to become your hardship. 

“You got any booze here?” You asked as you laid on your back beside him in the pews, sharpening your clip point knife on Daryl's borrowed whetstone. 

“No.” He answered quickly, not looking up from the Bible in his hands. 

“Cigarettes? I'll be out soon.”

“I don't smoke.”

“Any of your old prescriptions? I know your type, I bet your bathroom cabinet was full of valium.” You took a jab at his timid and nervous personality.

“I'm sorry, no… I don't like taking pills. I don't even take Advil for headaches-”

“Do you have anything here that'll keep me from blowing my brains out?” 

Gabriel looked up then, holding a look of surprise and distaste that he didn't even try to hide. “I… I may have some games from the children's Sunday school classes.”

To the shock of both of you, you nodded after thinking it over for a moment. Gabriel hadn't expected that answer, but he got up and led you to the room anyway.

Neither of you believed that night would be the night that you started to like each other. The boredom had grown so unbearable that those stupid little games he had seemed like playing San Andreas on your father's PlayStation 2 for the first time all over again. It wasn't just the first time Gabriel saw you laugh, it was the first time you'd actually laughed in a long time, and it wasn't at the expense of others, you genuinely had fun. 

“I could teach you.” He had said after you made a joke about going to the darkest depths of hell after smoking and swearing in church. 

“Teach me what?” You snorted, flicking ash from your cigarette.

“About the Bible. How to change.” 

You laughed then, shaking your head. “I don't know, father. Don't think so. But, if you'll let me, I can teach you how to make meth.”

His eyes widened. “W-what? You know how to do that? No, I- no, what?”

“Just a joke. I'd hate to see you on crystal. You're already so jittery and anxious.” 

He grinned sheepishly then and you had a good night. A great night. 

All it took was reuniting with Daryl to snap you back to reality. 

You'd searched for him as long as you had daylight every single day since arriving at the church. Even though the first few days most of your time outside was spent hunting, searching for signs of Daryl or his group was your main priority. Catching rabbits and squirrels was just lucky for Gabriel. 

It was off putting having Gabriel return with nearly the entire inner group on your doorstep. Your arms were covered in squirrel blood and you had twigs all in your hair, swinging open the church doors with your boot, a cigarette hanging between your lips. The skinned squirrel dropped from your grasp as you saw them, over a dozen faces all turned to you, all at once. 

Daryl hugged you with an exhausted yet relieved grin on his lips. You remained frozen, too confused and shocked by their sudden arrival. He ended up having to move your body out of the doorway so everyone could enter. 

“Was starting to think I lost you for good.” You commented as you stabbed a plastic fork into your hot can of peaches, stretching your legs in front of the campfire. 

“Nah. I told ya, I ain't leavin’.” 

“So, what happened? You all get on the bus and leave my sorry ass?” You teased, enjoying the sweet taste of fruit, even if it was canned. 

Daryl gave you the rundown, about Beth, the group he stuck with, going to Terminus, and the new members who claimed their guy was a big shot fancy scientist who had a cure.

“That's bullshit if I've ever heard it.” You tried to ignore the gnawing in your chest at the information that Beth had been taken. That was just another sick and uncomfortable reminder that Daryl was truly it for you. Everyone would leave, but not Daryl. Never Daryl.

“I dunno. Seems pretty legit.” Daryl grunted, finishing one of the squirrels you'd caught earlier that day. “So what happened?”

“What happened?”

“Yeah, after the shit show. What happened?”

You sighed, impaling your last peach slice. “I walked for a real long time looking for you. Found the church and busted in, this guy was cowering in the back with his ass half way through the floorboards.” You pointed over your shoulder at Gabriel, who was so nervous speaking to Rick you could see his fingers twitching. 

“And I never left. Used it as a place to sleep without bugs crawling up my nose or walkers nibbling my feet.”

Daryl snorted, staring off into the flames of the campfire before asking another question. “You look for me?”

“I tried.” You chose to leave out the part where you ‘tried’ twelve hours a day, seven days a week. “Couldn't find a damn thing. No human tracks besides ole boy. Needs a little less Bible preaching and a little more stealth training.” You paused then, looking at Daryl, who was still staring  off into the flames. “Did you look for me?”

“For a while, yeah. Me and Beth.” It took him a moment before he went on. “Lotta shit happened after that. But I kept lookin’. Was lucky we ran into your friend there surrounded by walkers. Made lookin' a lot easier.” He chuckled dryly and you nodded. You suddenly thought about Daryl back in Atlanta, back at the farm. The way he looked for Sophia, day and night, subconsciously using her as his redemption for not being able to find Merle. Did he look for you the same way? Or was it a more of a ‘keep an eye out’ type of search? 

Deep down you knew the answer. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. 

You didn't have Daryl back long before he was gone again. He came back a while later with yet another new human, some scrawny kid claiming he knew where Beth was. 

It was surprising to you that Rick didn't suggest you just stay back at the church. He actually insisted you accompany them on their search for Beth. That was until you realized Carl and Judith would both be left behind with Gabriel, which would have left you as one of the only adults. That pissed you off a little, giving you the impression that he thought of you as some psychotic loose cannon, or that you weren't capable of protecting them. After you cooled down you accepted the fact that you wouldn't trust someone like you either to watch your only two children, the last thing he had of his late wife. 

Rick had come to slightly regret bringing you when you tormented one of the ‘cops’ they were keeping hostage, blowing cigarette smoke in his face while he was immobile and randomly smacking a handkerchief against his face to annoy him. Rick must've said something to Daryl because instead of thinking your antics were absolutely hilarious, he discreetly pulled you aside and told you to ‘leave the damn man alone’. 

Blowing a little smoke in someone's face was nothing compared to what you wanted to do when you watched Beth get shot in front of you. 

It had only hit you that day when you finally saw your sweet pain in the ass again, you felt optimistic, relieved, her positive attitude was something you deeply needed. It was quickly replaced by feral anger, hissing, spitting, biting, clawing, the feeling of arms belonging to Tyreese wrapping around your torso to drag you away from the bloody mess you'd made of the nearest cop. 

You were grateful for your rage, it was so strong and numbing that you weren't able to cry. 

Oh, but how Daryl cried. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

part two

obsession

series masterlist .. taglist .. masterlist

warnings: profanity, stalking/following, paranoia, mean!Daryl, aggressive Daryl, Daryl’s past, toxic relationship vibes, obsessive behavior, predator vs prey vibes

the role of the fox

You were suddenly aware of the weight of your footsteps as you carefully treaded over crunching leaves and dry twigs. Thankfully your vision adjusted to the low light after some time, but not before you got a few scrapes and bruises. In the dark, it was hard to avoid smacking your face on the low hanging branches, or tripping over the messy system of roots protruding from the earth.

Needless to say, it wasn’t long before Daryl caught wind of his uninvited tagalong. You were loud. He let you keep up the sneaky act for some time, though. Mostly, he just couldn’t figure out why you’d follow him in the first place. He wasn’t doing anything special. He had originally snuck off for a cigarette, but when he realized you were clumsily lurking in the background, he decided to just keep walking to see what you’d do. Eventually, he managed to evade you, backtracking a bit and circling back to sneak up behind you.

By then, you’d realized you lost his trail and you were just blindly feeling in front of you for the next tree to support yourself. He followed you like this for a while, just observing, thinking of the past. It reminded him of hunting with his father when he was a boy, trying to keep quiet, out of the way. Dad would often bring his old friend Bo out with them so they could drink and shoot while Daryl fetched the kills. One time, Bo brought a rabbit trap with a bunny he’d caught in his wife’s garden, eating up all her greens. When Daryl, a boy of just six or seven, asked what the bunny was for, the old man just grinned and crouched down to the boy’s level.

“Foxes.” The geezer gleamed, breathing his whiskey-hot breath all over Daryl’s face.

“Foxes?” Daryl repeated as he tilted his head.

“Yup.” Bo affirmed with a proud nod. “See, when we get on down by the creek, there’s a few dens. I seen em last week. Foxes. We let the rabbit go, the foxes’ll follow.”

“Then we shoot ‘em?” Daryl queried.

“Exactly, it’s a trap.”

So, back to you. You were clumsy, as previously stated. You stepped to loudly, not careful enough with the underbrush. Had you been hunting for food, you’d have disturbed any tracks that could have led you to a meal. You were also careless. You stumbled around blindly without a single care for whatever may have crossed your path, be it a walker or anything else. You weren’t in tune with your surroundings at all. Hell, you didn’t even notice him stalking so closely behind you. You were out of your element, but he was right where he belonged. He kind of liked it that way, too. He was good at it. It reminded him of the animal documentaries he’d seen before; he was the lion and you were the gazelle. He reigned superior.

Back at camp, he often felt the opposite around you. With so many watchful eyes, he hated the vulnerable feeling he got when you were near. He was used to the criticism of others. He already didn’t trust anyone there. He barely trusted his brother, the last of his kin. He was a loner. But you had the kind of eyes that seemed to pierce right through him, tethering him to reality he didn’t wanna face. He liked being in his bubble, closed off from the others so he could avoid unnecessary attachments. You forcibly reminded him of the humanity of others when he much preferred to consider them colleagues at best.

The more he watched you, the more he realized how peeved he was to be affected so largely by something so small; so puny and defenseless. He’d watched you enough to know you were no survivalist. Even the gazelles in the grasslands had a sense for danger when the lions were prowling nearby. You lacked their innate instinct to survive. You were more like a bunny, which inevitably meant he played the role of the fox.

Adrift in a sea of thought, Daryl didn’t notice right away how alert you’d become. You’d begun to sense the danger of being watched. Your pace quickened, you jumped at the sounds of the night. It sparked something in him. He knew he was scaring you. He could tell you were trying to get away. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Not a bone in his body felt the urge to step out of the shadows and declare his presence to be his. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t embarrassment that held him back, that much he did know. You followed him first, after all. Why was this so different? He was glued to your trail, unable to resist, regardless of whatever potential consequences awaited him. This must have been how those foxes felt, he thought. Back then he thought the foxes silly for falling for Bo’s tricks time and time again. Now he understood just how cruel this trap really was.

After trying to ignore it, you were finally sure you were being followed. The signs were subtle, but real. Even worse, you had no clue where you were. You figured the easy solution would have been to turn around and go back the way you came, as you were sure you hadn’t taken many twists or turns. It should’ve led you straight back to camp. The issue with that plan was the fact that you were sure someone was back there, and you weren’t ready to face that reality quite yet. You’d hoped you could just keep going, and whatever or whoever it was would lose interest, but you’d given up on that idea about forty paces back.

You guessed your only option was to run. Maybe you could lose them. With little time to second guess yourself, your adrenaline took over and kicked your legs into gear. You broke into a full sprint, unfazed when your shoulders smacked into passing trees. Daryl was caught off guard when you ran, but like a hungry beast, he chased after you. It was like you triggered his prey drive. His primal instincts had taken over.

Your voice began to betray you as you panted, winded from the chase already. Panic rattled your breaths. Your movements lost all fluidity. Eventually you lost your grounding and slid down the edge of a shallow basin. It wasn’t a bad drop — maybe three or four feet — but the roots and jagged layers of rock and dirt still tattered your top and scraped up the flesh beneath. Things were quiet at the bottom. You didn’t even hear any crickets as you sat there and caught your breath.

When you glanced up at where you fell from, no one was there. But, when you focused your attention to the other side of the basin, you saw him there. A tall, dark, burly figure. You didn’t recognize him at first, not until he stepped out into the light of the moon. You pushed yourself up to your feet in disbelief.

“You?” You whispered as he stepped toward you cautiously. “You chased me.”

He shrugged and felt around in his pocket for a moment, pulling a worn pack of cigarettes from within. He popped the skinny thing in his mouth and held it with his lips as he flipped open his zippo and took a long drag from the flame. A cloud of smoke shrouded around him as he exhaled. He took a step closer.

“What are you doing?” You demanded. He stepped closer. “Why’d you chase me?” You pressed on. He took a step closer. “I’ll scream.” You warned. He raised his eyebrows, amused.

“Nah. No point in that. It’s like ringin’ a dinner bell these days.” He rasped coolly.

“So then why’d you chase me?” You reiterated.

“Why’d ya follow me?” He shot back. You faltered, chewing at your lip.

“Well, why’d you come out here so late?” You wondered. He held the cigarette up. “All this for a cigarette?”

“Nah. Didn’t plan on comin’ out this far.” He admitted. “Just didn’t know what to think when I heard someone followin’ me.” He shot you an accusatory glare. You gulped and rubbed your arm in an attempt to soothe your racing pulse. You could sense his irritation. You wondered what he’d do to you for invading his privacy and following him. Surely, no good intentions could have led him to chase you so far away from the others before he finally confronted you for sneaking around. He took a final step towards you, shrinking the gap between you to about a foot of space.

You didn’t know what to say. He didn’t either. He didn’t even know why he said anything at all. He didn’t owe you shit, especially not an explanation. He should have turned around when you fell and left you to find your own way home. It would’ve served you right for creeping after him like you did.

“It’d do ya good to mind the business that pays you.” He warned, flicking ash away before taking another drag. “And, last I checked, I didn’t have you on my fuckin’ payroll.”

“I’m sorry.” You uttered quickly.

“The fuck does sorry do for me?” He scoffed. He looked down fiddled with the cigarette in his hand before he held it up in front of your face. “Here. Have some.” He offered.

“I don’t smoke.” You denied.

“I wasn’t askin’.” He whispered. You slowly reached for the nasty thing, pinching it between your fingers. The sickeningly sweet smell drifted up your nostrils. Your throat felt tight. Still, you managed a meek thanks. “My treat.” He said sarcastically.

You wrapped your lips around the dirty brown filter and took it in, exhaling smoothly.

“Pretty easy for someone who’s never smoked.” He commented.

“Didn’t say never. Just said I don’t.” You clarified. He huffed.

“You sure ya wanna be smart with me?” He asked.

“I’m not even sure I want to be alone out here with you.” You blurted.

“Just when I don’t know you’re there, right?” He retorted.

“I wasn’t trying to scare you, I just—“

A rough hand cupped your jaw and cut you off. His flared nostrils washed heavy breaths over your face. His fingers dug into your skin with a bruising force as he scowled down at you. Struggling was futile.

“Let me make one thing clear to you.” He growled. “I ain’t scared of nothin.” He spat, releasing your face harshly before he stormed away.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you rubbed over your sore cheeks and watched him disappear into the night. His chest was pounding with rage. How dare you accuse him of being afraid? Of you? Of anyone? Had he not proven himself fearless in the face of violence? His thoughts raced around his mind and consumed him. He wanted so badly to write you off as a little nuisance, nothing more. He couldn’t, though. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not that night, nor for days to come. You relentlessly invaded his thoughts at any given time. He didn’t even realize it then, just how comical it all really was. Not only were you the bunny — and he the fox — but he was also the hunter who set the bunny free. He walked right into his own trap.

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix @superbowlisgay @liizzygrant @eddiemunsonsupremecy @raeraegoaway @ophelialaufey @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfsalltheway @negansbestie @mfnqueen1

late night wyd

Daryl’s Photographer

he pretends like he doesn’t see you taking pictures of him

(images from pinterest, not mine)

Today was my birthday and I got the rare stew and some banging slippers. All that's missing is Daryl or Frank Castle penis. Either will work I am not picky