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g-xix · 5 months

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okay but a coming and supporting ginge at his Sunday league fic?? like super close friends who have this first kiss after a match where he makes a really good save??? Would be so cute if you’re still looking for ginge!fic ideas 🫶🏻

Sunday League | AngryGinge13

THINGS TO KNOW -AngryGinge plays as a Goalkeeper in football -He's hot -I've never watched Sunday league in my life, idfk what im writing abt here.

-October, Autumn weather was steadily rolling in when your best mate Morgan had his football game over the weekend -"You coming to watch?" He asked, cheeks tinted pink as he dropped into the driver's seat besides you, fastening his seatbelt before looking at you for your answer -"You know I don't know much or really care about football that much?" You shivered, the car's seats feeling almost frozen despite the fact it was just Autumn. -Ginge noticed your coldness and plopped his jacket in your lap and put the car heaters on, before pulling out -You always had a little bit of a crush on your mate Morgan, and as he looked back- putting his arm around the back of your seat to check he road before pulling out, you felt yourself blushing at the way his biceps peeked from beneath his jersey, his fingers just close enough to brush your shoulder and send electricity racing down your skin -You'd only known one another for a couple years, but had definitely become close friends. -So close that you often wondered whether your hopes of it developing into something more were ridiculous. -"Well, I don't care if you don't know much about football," He shrugged, "I like having you there with me." His words brought a certain warm to your heart from their sweetness, and you could only feel yourself melting inside as he leaned over with a cheeky grin. "...Plus you're my lucky little lady- always save more goals when you're watching"

-That last line was what sold you- and before you knew it, you were wrapped up in a woolly scarf, beanie and even your gloves- the Autumnal chill too harsh for you to go out unprepared -It wasn't a massive game- just a Sunday league one, and you could walk down to the pitch and find a place to watch in there -You got there and wasn't expecting many people to actually be there watching, but there was a little queue outside the pitch which surprised you, considering you thought it was just a little Sunday League game -Turns out Strathon (neighbouring, and most competed) town's team was going to be playing against Morgan's team. -Little breakfast bar in the pavilion area was packed with lads getting their early pints going and people just basking in the warmth -You joined in the pavilion, blowing on your fingers and warming yourself up... -Your nose was bright red and stinging, along with your ears. Felt like bloody Winter. -As you ordered yourself a hot chocolate, you felt a weight drop onto your shoulders. -You wheeled around and spotted a grinning Morgan behind you, his arm draped around your shoulder, hands kitted in the keeper gloves -"See you arrived alright, pet." He gave your head a little pat with one of the gloves, flicking the fluffy bobble of your beanie -"Yeah, wouldn't miss it for... much." You answered slowly as intrusive thoughts slowed your thinking. Morgan just laughed, already knowing your reason -He looked damn good in his kit- flicking his head so his fringe fell back, chest large and puffed confidently as he punched his gloves together, clearly excited for himself

-You let him get down to the pitch and warm up, watching from the pavilion and walking down into the stands after a ten or so minutes when everyone started running to get to their seats -Despite not being a massive football fan, you were a bit nervous for Morgan. -For some reason, you really wanted to see him do well. And you hadn't seen him play before, especially not actually trying hard before, so you were praying for him to pull out a masterclass.

-And by god by half time were you on edge. -Surprisingly, for someone who was generally uninterested in football, the tense atmosphere had you stood up the majority of the match -Morgan had been working hard in goal, some of his saves having you screaming as every time your heartrate shot up, fearful of Morgan missing. -Clearly though Morgan could hear your excited yells from pitchside, as he clearly let out a laugh each time he caught the ball or punched it away- his eyes drifting just slightly left to try catch a glimpse of your ecstatic face before kicking the ball out again -So far, Morgan hadn't let any goals in either- the score a solid 0-0. -That did however mean you were bricking it for the second half. -Second half, your heartrate was above 80 for much of the game. -And you couldn't help but admire how good Morgan looked (which only had your heartrate going higher) -His fringe was messy and spiked about his head, and the developed muscle definition on his legs did have you feeling a bit feral in the stands -Somehow you managed to calm your nasty thoughts down and focus on the game, though, instead settling for bricking the second half. -You watched as Morgan booted the ball down pitch, one of the forwards controlling it and making a break through the defence line- getting you up and out of your seat, face pressed in your mittened hands in suspense as you watched the forwards do his thing and swing his leg back before... -Yells and cheers were heard as you and the rest of your row all got onto you feet, celebrating the forwards that'd been scored, as well as Morgan, who'd set it up in the first place. (Though it might've just been you who was cheering for Morgan, there) -Your head flicked back to Morgan in goal and you watched as his he let out a victorious yell of his own, patting his mate on the back before looking out into the crowd- his eyes scanning the crowd before they found your own, as indicated by the grin that lit up on his face, his eyes sparkling even brighter as he pointed with the gloved finger straight at you- a little shoutout to his unofficial-but-both-of-you-wanted- WAG. -And it was clear you were passionate for Morgan when one of the defenders got in Morgan's way and ended up letting Salford let a goal in- Morgan could hear you yell WANKER from the stands despite the uproar from both sides of the crowd and the rest of the pitch's yells. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle at being able to hear you despite the slight annoyance of conceding a goal.

-The full 90 minutes had elapsed and still your heart rate was through the roof, as the ref blew the whistle and it was decided- penalties were going to be taken. -The opposition took the first penalty... And Morgan's fingers brushed it, only just letting it in. -But luckily, your town scored one as well. -The next one also went in, and Morgan yelled a curse out, your heart thumping in your chest in fear. -And you were thanking God as the next ball went in, as your town scored once more -You coudn't help but admire Morgan in goal, sizing up the opposition as he waited for them to shoot. Morgan just looked so good, hitting his gloved hands together and bouncing from side to side, all too good looking in his kit -All admiring was cut short as you watched the shooter take his run up though, striking the ball and sending it mid-left... -Morgan caught the ball, pulling it tight to his chest and skidding to the side as he saved the pen, a scream leaving your throat along with the rest of your stand as you all cheered the save, watching Morgan let out a yell of his own, completely high on the adrenaline as he rolled the ball out and jumped, looking back to your stand -His head moved bit by bit slowly until he found you in the stands, the grin lighting up on his face once more as he found you- lifting his hands and signing the love symbol as best he could with his gloved hand, making your heart swell a bit as you felt your cheeks blush a bright pink, making heart hands at him before crouching down behind the people in front of you so that he didn't see how bright your cheeks were glowing (and only glowing brighter by the second) -You had your fingers crossed behind your back as you watched your team take the third penalty, the same forwards that had scored earlier took the run up, striking the ball hard and sending it up right... and crashing past the goalie's fingers and into the net behind.

-Screams filled your stands as the front few rows began jumping over the wall to go and join the winning team on the pitch- the bustle around you sending you forwards also, leaving you no choice but to get up and onto the pitch as well. -"Y/NNNN!" You heard your name yelled happily, before feeling a great force run into you -Morgan's arms wrapped around your waist, picking you right up as you squealed happily, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning into his body whilst he gave you a joyous spin, his heat radiating through the thin kit and warming you up greatly also, the hug slightly sweaty from Morgan's playing, though neither of you cared -"You were bloody brilliant!" You exclaimed as Morgan placed you back on the floor, getting up onto the tips of the toes to place a little kiss against his cheek whilst your arms were still wrapped around one another -You took your arms off Morgan's shoulders, one of Morgan's hands leaving your waist and coming up to his face to touch the place where your lips had left a kiss against his cheek. You could feel a blush rising to your cheek as Morgan paused completely to acknowledge the kiss, whilst his other arm still remained around your waist- his eyes looking off into the distance as if completely zoned out. -"I played great?" He repeated, and you could see a little grin start forming on his face as his eyes came back into focus before meeting yours, the cheeky grin now fully formed on his face as he tapped his lips with a gloved finger. "Surely I deserve a bit more for that then..." -"What, you want a proper snog?" You joked, though you could feel your heart lurch into your throat, almost making you choke up as you felt a nervousness wash over you. It wasn't quite clear whether Morgan was just giving friendly banter at this point or genuinely trying for something... -"Only if it's from you," He shrugged with the grin still plastered on his face, though he broke eye contact to look to the ground almost as though he were nervous, himself. -Fuck it. -You got back onto the tips of your toes, one hand resting on his cheek to pull his face down to yours so that you could press your lips onto his own firmly... before pulling away approximately after a millisecond of contact. -Morgan's eyes fluttered open. -"What, that's all?" -"You want more? You fucking initiate it then, it's nerve-wracking, you know?" -"Fine!" -THERE. Morgan got that great big snog he was looking for. -His arm snaked around your shoulders, holding you possessively as his lips met yours, fireworks fizzing and exploding in your stomach and making your heart thump even harder than it was at the start of the second half. You were sure he could taste the coffee and cocoa butter on your lips as well, as it felt almost as though he were chasing something- the way his lips moved on top of yours so passionately. -"GOWARN MORGAN!" The cheers from his teammates were what broke the kiss up, your lips detaching from his as you let out a laugh, burying your head into the crook of his neck, nose warming against his body- hot from the adrenaline of kissing and football. You could feel Morgan's body shake slightly as he was slapped on the back by his teammates, shouting a variety of other praises and cheering for him for "Finally getting some..." -You personally? -Couldn't be more grateful for the fact you'd come to watch the match and were now in the arms of your first kiss.

BONUS SCENE!

You waited by the car, taking a sip of your gingerbread latte and checking the time on your watch. It'd been almost a whole forty minutes since Morgan had said he'd be out the changing room in a sec, and had given you enough time to get through three peanut butter cookies from the pavilion and two hot drinks.

It had been courteous of him to offer to drive you back, especially after your little moment on the pitch (which still had you smiling giddily and blushing when you thought about it), but you were half considering just walking home, when-

"SORRY, I didn't mean to take that long!" The back door of the changing rooms leading into the car park swung open, as a dishevelled looking Morgan flipped his head, flicking his fringe out of his head as he jogged over to you and the car.

"Yeah, you took your time," You responded, opening the passenger seat door as Morgan opened the car, chucking his duffel bag in the boot and plopping his ass in the driver's seat.

The car wobbled a bit as the two of you sat down, and as you reached over to put the radio on- Morgan leaned back to grab his seatbelt when something shiny fell out of his pocket.

"Oh shoot, you dropped-"

You held up the four or so shiny packets that'd fallen out of his pocket.

TROJAN CONDOMS XL STIMULATION WHERE IT COUNTS-

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" You exclaimed, dropping them back down and rushing to unbuckle your seatbelt, jaw dropped whilst Morgan scrambled to pick the other three up and shouted "NONONONO-"

"THEY'RE NOT MINE, I PROMISE, PLEASE JUST REALISE-"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE NOT YOURS, ARE THEY FUCKING USED?!"

"YES- I MEAN- NO, NO OF COURSE THEY HAVEN'T BEEN USED-"

"wHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THSOE RIGHT NOW?!"

"I CAN EXPLAIN-"

"ARE THEY MEANT TO BE FOR US?!"

You looked past Morgan as saw the rest of the team exiting the locker rooms, patting one another on the back as they said goodbye- one of the players spotting Morgan and yourself in the car- his face stretching in a cheeky grin as he pointed at the two of youse, drawing attention from the other boys as he yelled:

"USE 'EM WELL, EH MORGAN?" He passed a wink on to you as well, making you groan and slide down your car seat in embarrassment, hands pressed over your face as Morgan tried not to cringe too hard himself.

"Yeah, they were the ones that gave it," Morgan explained wearily, rubbing his face with a hand of his own as he tried not to make eye contact with the others outside the car.

"It was only a kiss, anyways..."

"Yeah well, that's what The Killers said as well and look how that ended up."

You couldn't help but deadpan up at Morgan whilst he tried not to burst out laughing at what he thought was god-tier comedy.

And as if it couldn't get any worse, his phone was connected to the car's sound system-

"OI BIXBY, play Mr Brightside on Spotify!"

Hearing those starting chords from the car's tinny radio system drew a second groan from you as you sunk even further into your seat, much to Morgan's amusement as he cackled and pat your head.

"Get used to the shitty jokes, love, I'm taking you out for dinner tonight for a first date so you better start liking me sooner or later..."

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WELLLL IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE WE'VE SEEN SOME ANGRY GINGE CONTENT HA'NT IT??!! Much love n hoping everyone enjoyed bc i LOVE LOVE LOVE a little bit of autumn fanfiction it's such a cute lil vibe teehee

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

#angryginge13 #angryginge #angry ginge #morgan burtwistle #fluff #oneshot #youtube #youtuber #twitch #twitch streamer #sidemen #danny aarons #aanny daarons #wroetoshaw #ksi #tobjizzle #zerkaa #miniminter

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tizeline · 2 months

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I was actually wondering what the Sep Au Brothers feel about fashion? I read an analysis the other day about Rise Donnie and he seems to have the best fashion sense out of them all (and may or may not have his own fashion line?? Idk but I love that idea)

So I was wondering if it was the same or different for your Donnie? Do the Drax brothers have more of a yokai fashion sense or like- idk, what do they think of human fashion?

I have no idea is that makes sense but words are difficult

I think I've seen the same post actually, haha! Yeah, I really like the idea of Donnie being into fashion, and I don't see why it would be different for AU Donnie. As for the Drax Bros, I mentioned it in This Post but their outfits are mostly inspired by what Draxum wears, which in universe would be explained by them wanting to be like their father by emulating his sense of style. After the whole Redemption Arc thing and the Draxum family decides to abandon their Evil Plan, the trio might start exploring and developing their own taste in fashion.

Leo I feel like would be quite excited to try out human clothes, considering he already has an interest in human stuff. It might actually end up being a bit of a bonding experience for him and Donnie when they properly become friends, with Donnie helping Leo find the right outfits for him!

Mikey and Raph would proably still mostly stick to yōkai clothes, while they do eventually become, not just more open-minded about humanity, but also curious about it, they'd still wanna stick to what they're familiar with.

Actually, with Raph it might be more of a necessity. It would be really hard to find human clothes that'd fit his size, and also work with his spikes. Yōkai on the other hand are a lot more diverse physically than humans, so the people in the Hidden City who work with designing and creating clothes would take that into consideration. So needless to say it would be easier for Raph to find yōkai clothes that fit him rather than human clothes.

Seasons probably don't effect the Hidden City that much, I'd assume? Cuz it's underground? So the Drax turtles might not have that much experince with seasons. Still, I don't think they'd love winter considering the fact that they're reptiles and as such are more sensitive to cold. (I think Draxum would've made sure they're more resistant to cold than normal turtles, it would be quite inconvinient if they started brumating in the middle of a fight just cuz it was snowing lol, but they're still more susceptible to it than mammals)

I think Mikey would appreciate autumn, when all the leaves turn a vibrant orange. Both because as an artist he'd appreciate the autumn aesthetic and because... y'know, orange. I think all the bros would like summer cuz, again, reptile biology, they'd like the heat.

I'd assume yokai would have their own unique holidays that the Draxum family would celebrate, no idea what those would be, though.

Draxum has definitely informed his sons about how dangerous Big Mama is and how bad it would be if she found out that they were literally created with her favorite champion's stolen DNA. They don't like her and know to avoid her, if any business is being done between their family and Big Mama then Draxum is the one who handles most of the negotiations.

And lastly - episodes like Todd Scouts and Snow Day, and then The Mud Dogs - none of these I have figured anything out for of how they would be handled in the AU sooooo no answer for ya there, sorry!

#tizel art #Tiz Sep AU #tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt au

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

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Don't Go Where I Can't Find You

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 9 (during six year time jump) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—fingering, grinding, sideways sex?? (idk what it's called lol), gentle sex (I think?), unprotected sex (DON'T TRY IT AT HOME), straight (?) people sex, swearing, angst ❧ Word Count: 9.5k

❧ Prompt: "Did you ever even love me?" from the Norman Reedus Whores Discord Prompt Challenge (more info here)

❧ Summary: Daryl hasn't been the same since losing Rick, and though he loves you, he needs to do what he thinks is right: try to find his friend, bring back his body, or die trying. Six months apart is too much to handle, he soon realizes, and something is calling him back home.

❧ A/N: Hiiii how y'all doin... um so like I tried to do angst, smut, and fluff all in one??? And I also tried to knock out several requests in one fell swoop. So I have sort of a bastardization of what @shariiina requested (tho they asked for a big fight and makeup sex which I don't think I quite nailed but I will definitely try do that more accurately in the future), as well as some anon requests for soft/gentle sex and also reader crying during sex. I was ALSO trying to fit in the prompt from my prompt challenge thingy that my Discord group is doing lol so there's a lot happening here. I just hope it turned out ok! I think this is a pretty sweet little story with a steamy lovemaking scene and a pinch of angst. Some cute/funny moments as well I think.

You weren’t there when the bridge fell, but you heard it, and you felt the ashes from the fire as they drifted over your face.

Daryl had shifted past you, not answering you as you asked what was going on. He had that thousand yard stare you’d seen before. You’d seen it when he lost Merle… When he lost Beth… When he lost Denise…

When you grabbed his face with your hands to look him in the eye, asking what on Earth had happened as tears drowned out his vision, you knew what happened. Context clues gave it away, and the ache in Michonne’s wailing as she emerged from behind Daryl, Maggie and Carol supporting her limp, writhing body.

In your bewilderment, you felt Daryl jerk himself from your grasp, retreating somewhere inside himself you couldn’t reach, somewhere you couldn’t follow. His grief was hostile territory for you, though his heart had become a world of comfort and familiarity the past few years.

This excursion was far more intense than what you’d seen from him before, though. Death was a fixture of everyday life for you and everyone else you knew, but Rick’s death was unprecedented. Nothing could compare to the grief in its wake, especially not for Daryl.

For as long as you could, you left him alone. The only reminder of his presence after that was the feeling of his body weight dipping on the other side of your bed. You were surprised he even tried to sleep next to you, but it was the one thing reminding you that he was there.

Only in the morning he’d be gone, a cool, silken expanse of olive green sheets where once his body lay, sprawled out with open arms trapping you so close to his chest for hours on end, until whatever responsibility he had took him away from you.

Now he seemed to leave on his own accord, you supposed. You weren’t sure where he’d gone during the day, but it wasn’t for lack of looking. You found yourself wandering the streets of Alexandria sometimes, in the back of your mind trying to locate a man who didn’t want to be found, but maybe he wanted you to look for him, you thought. You loved him enough to never stop looking.

Each night he slept less and less. After a while, you weren’t sure if the nights were getting colder from the changing season, or if the warmth of his body you usually relied on was getting further from you. One thing you were sure of—autumn was fading into winter, and for the first time since you found yourself in his arms, you were cold.

One morning when you woke up, you were sure he hadn’t been to bed at all the night before. His musky scent of pine and tobacco still lingered, but it was gradually becoming more faint, and your home was becoming a shell, all because he wasn’t in it.

“Daryl,” you mumbled against your pillow, then flipped over in a half-sleep state to face him where he’d be if he were there. After a month of not waking up next to him, you would’ve thought you’d grow used to it by now. You’d never get used to it, not when waking up next to him was all you had to look forward to.

The haze of sleep still deluding you, you reached out to touch him, the empty space of him. Where are you? you heard your inner voice speak. Daryl… come home.

Your eyes fluttered open with reluctance to see he wasn’t there. Again.

But you heard him moving downstairs, that creaking of the old floorboards underneath his feet. You felt his presence when you were awake enough to feel anything. He was home, and that was enough to get you out of bed that morning.

“Daryl?” you called out to him softly, voice still groggy from sleep. Your bare feet were cold against the hardwood floor as you tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room, where you saw Daryl’s worn grey backpack sat upon the couch, next to his crossbow.

“Daryl, are you here?”

Approaching footsteps from the kitchen preceded his appearance. He emerged with a few cans of green beans, and a tired, sleepless look upon his face.

You sighed in relief, happy that he was home instead of wherever he went to be alone. Your smile faded when you realized how exhausted he looked, and how red the whites of his eyes were.

You hadn’t been able to touch him in weeks, so when you took the cans out of his hands to place them on a nearby table, he seemed almost startled by your movement.

“You need sleep,” you said, tentatively coming closer and closer until you could rest your hands on his chest, gently moving them up and down against the scratchy fabric of his wool poncho. “Let’s lay down. You’re exhausted.”

His tenseness seemed to loosen under your touch, but his glassy eyes portrayed a different story. Something was off, something more than just grief.

“Sweetheart,” you said, while raising a hand to pin the unruly hairs behind his ears, “what’s wrong?”

He huffed, then removed your hands before turning to pick up the cans. “I’m leavin’,” he grumbled, his back turned towards you.

He moved to the couch to stuff the canned beans inside his pack, then zipped and buckled it tight. Next, he turned to the hallway, retrieving his quiver of bolts he usually used on trips outside the walls.

You didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t have any reason to go out there. As far as you were concerned, his mental health needed to recover from the loss of his best friend, his brother, before he could even think about going out there. Still, maybe it was what he needed, and maybe when he’d come back in a few days like he always did, he’d be more like himself. Maybe it was what he needed to heal.

“When will you be back?” you asked, as you always did.

He swallowed hard, averting his gaze, but not before he made incidental eye contact with you. You looked so innocent, so unaware of what he had planned. He couldn’t hide from it now. Weeks of milling over it in his addled brain had finally accumulated to this moment—telling you, the person he loved more than anything, that he didn’t know when he was coming back. He wasn’t even entirely sure where he was going.

“I was going to make that casserole you like for dinner,” you added. It was better than the silence. “But I’ll wait till you get back. Unless you’re coming back tonight?”

He shook his head. “Don’t wait for me.”

“I’ll always wait for you,” you said, with a soft laugh under your breath. “Just tell me when and I’ll save it for when you come home.”

He went silent again, opting to arm himself with his various knives and utility belts instead of answering you.

It wasn’t like him at all to ignore you, to avoid your touch, to avert his gaze. Maybe when you first met him three or four years ago, but not now. Not after two years of the greatest kind of intimacy two people could share with one another.

You tested the waters, coming closer to touch him and see if he’d recoil again. Your hands held his, disrupting him from looping his belt. A small smile spread across your face, and though part of it was forced, all of it was born out of love for him. He’d told you before that your smile could fix everything for him, so you hoped he meant it.

“Hey,” you said. “I love you, Tarzan.”

The corner of his lip quirked ever so slightly, but something held him back from returning your smile, even if you called him that little moniker you gave him years ago, to reflect the “wild man” he seemed to be. He always felt more at home in the wilderness, it seemed.

What you expected was for him to return the sentiment, to call you “Jane” as he usually did. He only chewed his bottom lip, and watched your hands as they fit perfectly in his.

He only shook his head, a gesture so foreign to you in this circumstance. He should’ve smiled, held your hands tighter, kiss you… Not loosen himself from your grasp, not take his undying warmth away as he stepped backwards, away from you.

Of course, it was hard to react that way. It wasn’t his instinct, and a part of you knew it, but it still hurt. He didn’t want to say what he was about to, or to do what he was about to do, but he had to. At least, he convinced himself that he had to.

“I’m goin’ away,” he said.

“I know.”

“No,” he replied. “I’m goin’ away, and I ain’t comin’ back till I find Rick.”

You stepped back subconsciously, so much so that you couldn’t feel the back of your legs hit the couch. Gravity forced you to sit on the edge, somewhere between disbelief and confusion. None of those words made any sense together, in that order in which he spoke them. It must’ve been an illusion, some trick of the mind orchestrated by the debilitating loneliness that had settled in your heart. To make matters worse, you feared this was just the beginning.

You tried to make sense of it, in a way that allowed the sense of it to become something else—something you could grasp. “Rick’s gone,” you said quietly. “How are you going to find him if he’s gone?”

He shook his head, as if he didn’t know the answer to that himself. He truly didn’t. “I’m gonna find him, dead or alive.”

“Alive?” you asked in bewilderment. “You… You think he’s alive?”

“Never found a body… Blast of the explosion coulda blown him somewhere nearby.”

“Daryl,” you said, “that’s…” Your words failed you then, as they often did when emotions took over. You couldn’t help it—you loved him, and Daryl never lied. If he said he wasn’t coming back, he wasn’t coming back. “You can’t leave.”

“I gotta.”

The lump in your throat was becoming impossible to swallow, and tried as you might, you couldn’t keep your voice from cracking under the pressure. Tears would soon follow, you were certain of it. Still, you were trying to delude yourself, to interpret Daryl’s straightforward words into something that didn’t tear you apart from the inside out.

“But you’ll be back soon,” you said, looking up at him with much more than just a hint of vulnerability in your face. “You’ll come back, even if you can’t find him?”

He lowered his head in silence, then finally replied: “I dunno.”

Your legs lifted you up to full height, a sudden burst of impatient energy seething through you.

“What does that mean?”

“Means I don’t know, (Y/N).”

You shook your head in bewilderment. “You can’t just leave. I mean, I understand you want to find him but… You can’t leave.”

He huffed through abnormally flared nostrils, indicating that he, too, was losing his patience. It wasn’t pure anger, though, in fact there was very little anger inside of him—it was more like dread, sorrow for the pain he would continue you putting you (and himself) through as he tried to justify his reasons for needing to leave, even though he couldn’t really think of any justifiable reason. It was irrational, impulsive, dangerous, inconsiderate… Most of all, he just wanted to get it over with; to rip off the bandage and try his best to ignore the sting.

“I ain’t tellin’ ya again,” he said, in that low, extra gravelly voice that told you he was close to a breaking point. “It’s settled.”

Your lips trembled as you tried to speak, with nothing but a barely audible whimper falling and fading into thin air. Your tears inevitably broke out, but they were muffled as you tried to maintain composure. You weren’t sure why—Daryl had seen you cry countless times, but this time was different. Maybe Daryl was leaving you because you cried so much, because you cared so much. You feared he found you pathetic or overbearing, maybe even annoying.

Of course, no such thing was true, but irrational fears born of insecurity and self-doubt got the better of you. The strain in your face was evident.

“I, uh, I don’t wanna leave,” he said.

“Then don’t!” you suddenly exclaimed, voice weak and faltering. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, then stepped forward tentatively as you approached him. “Or… let me go with you.”

“Nah,” he said quickly. “No way. You gotta stay here where it’s safe.”

“Daryl… I—I can’t. I need you. I love you… How could you say you’re leaving? Doesn’t what we have mean anything to you?”

You hated to ask him that, and you never would’ve unless you weren’t genuinely afraid he felt nothing for you anymore. Of course, it wasn’t that at all—it was the grief that overwhelmed him, called him to take Rick’s disappearance on his already burdened shoulders. In a sense, it had nothing to do with you, but you were the one who was going to suffer. You were the one who’d be left behind.

“You know it does,” he replied, this time voice much more firm and loud, as though he couldn’t even risk the thought of you not knowing that for sure. “This ain’t easy for me, but it’s eating me up inside. I at least gotta try.”

“Then let me help,” you begged, and somehow you’d gotten close enough to take his hands in yours. If you got desperate enough, you wouldn’t be surprised if you found yourself down on both knees before him. “Please. Just don’t leave me… Don’t—don’t go where I can’t find you.”

“Woman,” he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. He must’ve known how you melted when he called you that, how easily you could give into him. “Don’t go lookin’ for me. I need you right here.”

You squeezed your eyes shut to flood your cheeks with tears. “I need you here,” you said. “I just don’t understand how you can do this after everything.”

You stepped back, gently yanking your hands from Daryl’s grasp until you stumbled back onto the sofa. You sat there staring straight through his face, which had sunk as the grim reality of his decision came shattering down upon him.

He wasn’t sure what was worse: being away from you indefinitely, or leaving you hurt like this.

As you held your head in your hands, you thought back to all the times Daryl had said he’d never leave you, in the same breath as the words “I love you.” Now that he was leaving you, without a return in sight unless he found Rick, you wondered if those words really meant anything.

“Did you ever even love me?” you asked sincerely.

It wasn’t that you wanted him to prove it, or to feel guilty for what he was doing, but you genuinely didn’t know anymore, and that uncertainty terrified you. You’d built your whole life around him the last few years. You’d made sacrifices, compromises, choices that were predicated on the belief that you were going to be with him forever. Was it over now? You had a feeling Daryl didn’t even know himself, all he knew was what he thought he needed to do, and that your relationship would have to hang in the balance until he accomplished his self-assigned task.

He swallowed hard, making sure he didn’t cry when he opened his mouth to speak. “I never stopped loving you,” he said. “I never will.”

That was six months ago now.

Six months since he’d seen you, six months since he’d held you, six months since he’d heard you say, “don’t go where I can’t find you.”

He hated that he’d done just that, and he quickly realized that his decision wouldn’t ease the pain of Rick’s disappearance.

All it did was render him lonely. Much more lonely than he’d ever felt in his life.

Still, he gave himself a mission, a responsibility to find Rick alive or dead. There were questions that needed to be answered, and Daryl didn’t leave any stone unturned.

He went where you couldn’t find him, though you didn’t try to find him. You were convinced he didn’t want you, that there was more to his leaving than just finding Rick. He didn’t love you anymore, and you still found yourself wondering if he ever did.

Around the same time he left, though, you noticed you couldn’t find one of your blouses—the cream colored peasant blouse with lace trim and cinched waist. You hadn’t worn it in some time, since it was one of Daryl’s favorites on you, but its disappearance drove you crazy, since you couldn’t think of where it had gone to.

That blouse had lived a more interesting life in the past six months than you had, as it lay neatly folded at the bottom of Daryl’s pack, the only thing he had to remember you by.

Perhaps he should’ve told you he took it, knowing you were rather sentimental about your clothing, but in the emotional minefield of that morning he left, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. He spoke very little that day, and he regretted not telling you everything he wanted to.

So now, sitting beside a rocky creek in the last golden light of the late spring afternoon, only the gentle sound of trickling water and birds chirping sweetly in the trees, he thought of you.

He always thought of you, especially with the weather warming up, knowing how much you loved to wear your sundresses and sandals.

You’d frolic around the house, opening the windows to let in the soft, subtle spring breeze and the twinkling sound of the wind chimes. When he was home, you’d somehow get him to lay on the couch, your body snuggled up to his as you both fell asleep to those wind chimes, on an afternoon not unlike today.

He could practically taste the sweet and sour lemonade you squeezed fresh from the tree that had grown outside the walls, but hovered over just enough to allow ripe yellow lemons to fall on the shady grass below, waiting for you to pluck them up with a delicate hand in the safety of Alexandria.

In his hands, he held your blouse, absentmindedly caressing the fabric between his fingers. He had taken great care not to let the lifestyle he’d been living the last six months tarnish or tear the thin fabric, as he fully intended that someday he’d return it to you.

He didn’t know when that day would come, which was why he couldn’t promise you he’d return, but for weeks, he’d felt home calling back to him. In fact, he was sure it’d been calling to him since the moment he left, but now he allowed himself to hear it, those dainty chimes on the wind, drowning out the sound of the creek before him.

He didn’t take your blouse out of his pack often. There was no way he’d risk staining it with his filthy hands, or let the well-preserved, lingering scent of your perfume wear off, but lately he found himself sitting here, not far from his camp, holding that shirt.

Did you ever even love me? The phrase rang out in his head, echoing in the empty cathedral of his mind.

The fact you even had to question it devastated him beyond even his own comprehension. What was worse was how he left without really proving it, without actions to mirror his words.

I never stopped loving you, he’d said. I never will.

He’d played that scene out in his head with every possible chain of events, but nothing could stop him from remembering what he had said, and the fact that what he said simply wasn’t enough.

Stupid, he thought to himself. I’m so fuckin’ stupid.

Six months of searching for a missing man, and he had nothing to show for it but a few dead ends. If he hadn’t found him now, he was never going to find him. He had told himself he’d never stop looking, but something had struck him just then, when he milled over your words once more: don’t go where I can’t find you.

If he kept looking for Rick, he’d be lost, too. It was time to go home.

He walked longer than he had in some time, long enough for day to stretch into night. The guards at the gate nearly couldn’t recognize the hero of Alexandria, face shrouded by a tattered hood and smeared with several layers of dirt and blood.

Only the crossbow on his back gave away his identity, as well as the gruffness of his voice. The gate opened for him with a familiar rattle, and quickly the routine began to settle in once again, as though he’d never left.

As his aching feet carried him towards the house he once shared with you, he found himself wondering if you were still there, or if you’d moved to a smaller home. His question was answered when he spied your muddied yellow rain boots sitting outside the front door, and your hand painted welcome stone on the front step.

Thank goodness he’d never lost his house key—he kept it on a long string of twine so he could never not find it.

As he turned the key and pushed open the door, he was overwhelmed with the scent of something he vaguely remembered coming from the kitchen, where the oven was still warm from dinner that evening.

Hunger overwhelmed him, and made him instinctively head to the fridge, where a recognizable casserole dish was sitting on the top shelf, still warm.

He didn’t notice he let out an audible grunt of hunger before he bent over to pull the dish out and set it on the counter. Peeling back the tin foil, a smattering of potatoes, cheese, garlic, and probably a myriad of other spices and vegetables you’d thrown together, greeted him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cheese, or anything moderately tasty, but it must’ve been before he left, certainly it was something you had made.

As he shoveled spoonfuls of lukewarm food into his mouth, he realized you had inadvertently made good on your promise: you had that casserole ready for him when he got back.

Turning to face the clock on the wall, he narrowed his eyes to see through the darkness: 10:37 PM.

You must’ve been asleep upstairs, and plopping himself onto that bed alongside you was just about the best possible thing he could think of right now. He trudged up the stairs, with each step careful not to wake you. He was worried about how you might react to his sudden appearance after so long away, but at the same time, he couldn’t wait to see you. He couldn’t think straight enough to work out the logistics. What if you woke up before he did, and what if you were terrified of his sudden presence? Perhaps you wouldn’t even want him in your house, after so long of not seeing him. Still, there was no indication that your relationship was over when he left. He assumed it was an unspoken agreement that if and when Daryl returned, you’d pick up right where you left off. He only hoped that was a correct assumption.

Sure enough, you were asleep, without the light of the lantern by your bedside table which you used to leave on for him to return. As such, he could hardly see you, your features just barely illuminated by the cool, indigo-tinted light of the moon streaming in through the window.

In the warmth of the night, you must’ve kicked off your blankets, as your sprawled out body was outlined only in the thin cover of the sheet. He smiled to himself, remembering how much of a restless sleeper you were, always tossing and turning so much that you’d end up tangled in the blankets, and sometimes he’d wake up with your hand dangling over his face. You were even more restless when he wasn’t there, since his arms holding you close to his body seemed to keep you from moving around too much. That, and the comfort he provided you with was enough to lull you into the deepest, most undisturbed sleep.

As he stripped himself of his vest and shirt, he remembered how filthy he was, covered in grime and tree sap and dried walker blood. He was ashamed to admit he hadn’t had a proper shower in weeks, and if you’d been with him, you would’ve made sure he bathed at least every other day, but he’d been alone for so long, left to his own devices, and his less than sanitary habits.

But a shower sounded almost as good as sleep, so he turned towards the bathroom door, gently closing it behind him as he entered to light the lantern next to the sink. Routine—it was all coming back to him. He had tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy out there in the woods, but he quickly learned that it was nearly impossible, what with the nomadic nature of his lifestyle, moving from camp to camp, never staying in one place for too long. As much as he was used to living like that, he hated it. It made him feel more like an animal than a human.

Tarzan, he remembered you calling him. Somewhere between man and beast. Right now, under the gentle stream of the warm water, as he struggled to comb his fingers through the large knots in his wild, disheveled hair, he never felt more like he was trying to regain his humanity, to wash the wilderness from his body.

He raised his hands to rub his face vigorously under the splashing water, and proceeded to further claw at the tangled clumps of chestnut waves on his head.

“Damnit,” he sighed under his breath. It was so much easier when you did it for him.

Remembering the existence of shampoo and conditioner, he turned to reach for the bottle of homemade “hair stuff,” as he called it. When he removed the cap, a fragrant burst of sweet pea and lemon awakened his senses. Oh, it was just like he remembered, just like the smell of your hair.

“(Y/N)...” he mumbled under his breath. “My girl.”

He’d missed lathering his hair with your little concoction, but even more than that, he missed the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp, and the sound of your voice so close to his ear as you asked him about his day. Maybe you’d accidentally tug on his hair a little too hard as you tried to get out the knots, but he’d never complain. Not when even the pain felt so good.

Soon his head was drenched in white bubbles and soapy lather, cleansing his mop of brown hair and removing the blood and dirt that had somehow found their way into his wavy locks.

When he washed out the shampoo, he squeezed a hefty dollop of conditioner into his palm, and smoothed it through his less tangled hair to get the real stubborn knots out. It felt wonderful to finally be clean, but that was just his head. His body still needed tending to.

You must’ve still been getting those handmade bars of rose petal soap from the neighbors, since the sweet floral scent quickly wafted into his nostrils as he held it in his hands, rubbing it between them to make a thick lather.

As the conditioner settled in his hair, he dragged the soap languidly across his chest, paying extra attention to his underarms, which surely needed it.

His hands trailed down with the soap to his abdomen, circling around his navel. It’d been so long since his stomach felt full. His belly protruded more than usual, too, a sight that was welcome as he looked down to see the dirt washing off of him.

Next was, of course, his nether regions, where he’d felt an irresistible urge since the moment he saw you, even if he could hardly make out your face. He knew you were just as beautiful as ever, and that he wasn’t entirely sure how he could sleep in bed with you without getting lost in his lustful thoughts.

He could already feel the tingling sensation surge through him as he ran his soapy hand along his shaft, paying extra care to the tip and all the crevices.

“Shit,” he muttered, leaning his forehead against the tile wall. It had been so long since he touched himself. In fact, he was sure he never really had time to do it while he was out in the wilderness, constantly in danger.

That didn’t stop him from thinking of you, though. All those lonely nights of shallow, dreamless sleep without the softness of your body he’d gotten so accustomed to holding. Too often had he found himself reaching for empty air, or whispering your name in the haze of his exhaustion. On particularly desperate nights, he clung to your blouse, burying his head in the bundle of fabric like it was a burial shroud as he unzipped his pants to just barely touch himself over his underwear, but that was long ago, and lately he had to reserve his yearning to simple thoughts and memories, making it all so much more potent. He needed you.

Without entirely meaning to, he gripped tighter around himself as he made longer and more intentional strokes. Soon the soap in his other hand must’ve slipped from his grasp, and he leaned forward to catch himself before the sudden pleasure of his touching became too much to bear.

He flinched slightly as his forehead pressed against the cool wet tile of the shower wall, one hand outstretched above his head, the other now tugging harder and faster on his cock.

When he became more aware of his body and its movements, he slowed his pace, opting to thumb at his tip in gentle circles as he took a deep breath. He felt the water hitting his back, heard the heavy pitter patter of droplets hitting the tile below and pooling around his feet ever so slightly. Funny how one could feel so alive, so human, in such a simple way.

And yet, he could hardly bear to allow himself that simple, human pleasure of intimate touch. How could he do such a thing when he’d left you alone for six months? The shower could cleanse his body, but not his mind.

Still, he allowed his fingers to trace gently along the semi-hard surface of his shaft, as once your fingers had done the same. “I love you, Tarzan,” your voice echoed in a distant memory. He nudged his forehead in small circles against the tile, as if it could ever feel like your warm, soft body, curled up against his as he held you like he always used to. Why did he ever stop?

Always trying to find something. Always trying to save someone. Always the hero.

The longer the water ran, the more he returned to the reality of his situation, and the more he realized just how exhausted he really was.

He crept out of the bathroom slowly, careful to hold the lantern close to him so as not to wake you with its light. His sore legs seemed to carry him to the bed—his side of the bed, the one that you’d left deserted for six months, as if you knew all along this night would come, that someday he’d come back to you.

What on Earth was he thinking? He could’ve slept on the couch, he could’ve slept on the front porch, for crying out loud, but would it be so bad if he slept here, where he belonged? Weren’t you still his, anyway? Please, still be mine.

If you were awake, he’d beg you, but you weren’t awake, and he’d spent too long having one-sided conversations. He just needed sleep, or you, whichever one he could have. If it was only sleep, he would take that gladly.

Though it was tempting, he had to admit. Tempting to wake you up. Tempting to gently rub your shoulder until your eyes shot open as they always did, an old habit from living on the road. Tempting to engulf you like quicksand until your body melded with his, for the first time in so long. Tempting to rid you of that silky button-up nightshirt he immediately recognized on your body. It looked a little suffocating, a little too modest for his taste. The night was warm, stolid and heavy. Even that sheet seemed too hot, or maybe he just wanted to see your body, that pliant, supple flesh he had once held sensual dominion over.

In your sleep, you’d finally settled into a fetal position, curled up on your side, back facing him. As he set down the lantern on the bedside table, you stirred slightly, a small, breathy whimper escaping your lips unconsciously.

From the indirect light of the lantern, he could finally make out your features—a stinging pain rose up in his abdomen, as he’d almost forgotten how sweet you looked in your sleep. It was something out of a Renaissance painting or a pre-Raphaelite’s hazy daydream. Though he could only see your side profile from his vantage point, your lips parted so delicately as your head moved in adjustment against the softness of your pillow.

He was just about to settle into his side of the bed when he noticed a dark piece of fabric tangled between your arms as you held it close to your chest. Squinting, he lifted his knees to the bed and leaned over you to get a better look, and of course he knew what it was. It was his, after all.

Aw, sunshine, he thought, watching your fingers curl and indent the fabric of his old black t-shirt he used to sleep in on cold winter nights. He could even make out some of the holes, in the same old spots.

Overwhelmed with love, he let himself lay down as close to you as he could without waking you, he’d hoped. His arm’s old muscle memory immediately kicked in as it draped itself gently over your side, a movement he was quick to take back when he felt your body flinch and heard your breath hitch in unison.

Sleep hadn’t quite lost its hold over you as you mumbled out something incoherent. You’d felt his empty presence before, especially when his name echoed in the atmosphere of your dreams on a nightly basis. By morning, you wouldn’t remember them, only blurry glimpses and long lost sensations.

In your mind, you always knew that slight weight around your waist was nothing but a phantom limb, but in your heart, you’d always bring yourself to look over your shoulder at his side, where he never was. Until tonight.

When you lifted your gaze ever so slightly, you swore you saw a faint glimmer of familiar blue eyes nestled between dark strands of freshly rinsed hair, though it couldn’t be, you thought.

Still, in your transitory state between consciousness and sleep, you mumbled his name under your breath, almost unintelligibly: “Daryl…”

Though he looked much clearer than he usually did in your dreams, you were quick to dismiss the dimly lit, shadowy figure beside you as nothing more than a lovesick illusion, so you turned and buried your face in the shirt you’d been clinging to every night since Daryl left, not knowing that he was right there, only wanting to hear your voice again.

“Hey, Jane,” he said softly, then reached his hand out to touch your shoulder as you flinched yourself awake.

“Oh... my god,” you said groggily. “Daryl?”

His body didn’t give yours the chance to turn to face him. Instead, he aligned his chest snugly to your back, and tucked his arms tight around your sides until you were fully stuck in his grasp.

Rendered silent, you shook your head in disbelief as you felt his lips hungrily latch onto your exposed neck, while his hands slid along your side in a desperate attempt to remove the sheet draping your body.

He wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him, whether it was the sound of your voice or the feeling of the warmth radiating from your body, but all he knew was that he had no immediate desire to explain himself, or to excuse his actions, if they could ever even be excused, all he could say, repeated in breathless sweeps of his nearly tear-soaked voice, was: “I’m sorry.”

Between each apology, his lips found a new part of your skin to soak with saliva from his frantic open-mouthed kiss.

The more you felt his lips tremble against your heated skin, the more your heartbeat thundered in your chest, and the more you couldn’t care less if he was sorry or not—six months without him, without love, made you ravenous for touch, and his touch alone.

When your shock and relief at his presence subsided, you reached back to squeeze his hand as it grasped firmly onto the fabric of your nightshirt, nearly tearing it in his reckless desperation.

You had barely even seen his face, but you felt his body and his presence with you in the darkness of your room, so it was enough to know he was there, that he loved you enough to come back home to you. Whatever anger and confusion you had was still there, but what consumed you was the very essence of him, the only thing you’d wanted for the past six months.

“Mm, Tarzan,” you hummed sleepily, bringing his hand to your chest to cup your breast.

You felt his chest heave against your back, and the scent of your shampoo in his hair made you smile as you bit your lip, trying to hold back the happy tears and save them for later.

His hand squeezed your breast gently, but just enough to elicit a deep sigh from your lips. The erection growing in his underwear was becoming unavoidable, and that hardness pressed up against your bottom made you shiver in need. Your body squirmed and writhed so much he hissed between his teeth, burying his head in the crook of your neck, where his tongue traced circles under your ear.

Heat spread all through your body, until you were uncomfortable under the thin fabric of the sheet. With a huff, you kicked it off you, and Daryl’s hand didn’t waste a second to reach over your waist and palm at your clothed mound. You’d forgotten how strong he was—the pressure of his heavy hand pulled you even closer to him, and sent a small shockwave through your touch-starved body.

Both of you felt so delicate, like thin sheets of glass ready to shatter at the slightest touch. When his hand fondled you there again, you let out a sharp gasp as you reached down to hold your hand over his. “Yes…” you sighed. “Touch me… Don’t stop.”

He put more pressure on his palm as his fingers circled above your underwear, right over that sensitive little bundle of nerves he used to be so good at stimulating. His fingers were still just as good as they had once been—maybe even better from months of using them so much more than he had before. They were nimble and precise, yet somehow still heavy and bulky in shape. You’d never known such perfect fingers before, or such hands that could caress your body with the utmost love and respect.

Even in his desperation to touch you, to make love to you, he always held you like he could wait an eternity for you if he needed to—there was never any rush to his love, it was always slow and sweet, tender and soft. If you stopped him now, told him to get out of your house and to never see you again, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d respect your displeasure with him and his absence, but you didn’t pull away. Maybe a part of you wanted to, wanted to torture him and put him through the same pain you went through when he left, but something told you that he had gone through that same pain, too, that he never wanted to leave you, but he felt he had to.

You always knew he loved you, and here he was—proving it.

As his mouth sucked on the skin of your neck, you maneuvered his hand until his fingers slipped underneath the fabric and tickled your outer lips. His hand stilled for a moment, allowing you to use it to your liking. You used it to spread your lips, and encouraged his fingers to enter you slowly, all while you writhed purposefully against his palm, hitting your sensitive spot.

He groaned lowly in your ear as the feeling returned to his fingers, and he didn’t hesitate to dig deeper, two fingers curling up inside you until you whimpered in satisfaction. “Oh, God… Daryl.”

The weight of your leg being placed atop his as you tried to spread yourself out more caught him off guard, and his fingers dug deeper, sending you writhing and whimpering from the pressure. He felt your tightness squeezing all around his thick fingers, soaking them as you became more aroused.

“Don’t remember you bein’ this tight, sunshine,” he whispered into your ear between kisses. “You’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

“Mm, put it in me,” you said, voice strained as your core rutted against his hand to increase the pressure. You bent the knee of your outstretched leg and grounded your foot on the bed, stretching your entrance as much as you could. “It’s been so long.”

He grunted in agreement as he pulled out his fingers to raise them to your clit once more, circling it in slow, rhythmic motions.

“I ain’t never stopped thinkin’ of you,” he said. “I missed you… God, I missed you, woman.”

You smiled and reached down to tug off your panties, while he moved to yank himself free from his own underwear.

Quickly you found yourself reaching back to grasp his hard shaft, pulling it to your folds where you pressed his tip to your clit. His chin pressed firmly to your shoulder, he watched you stroke his cock against your slit, which you dragged back and forth along his now aching shaft.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your neck. “I ain’t gonna last long.”

“Me neither.”

His hips jutted forward and backward, gently rocking himself against you. Each movement hit your clit and forced a heavenly sigh from your lips. Daryl had tried with all the mental fortitude he had to recreate that sound in his head, but your voice was like honey, coated in sugar crystals and dripping from your succulent lips. He hadn’t known sweetness like you and your body for so long, and he knew with every surge of tingles that ran through him that he couldn’t keep himself from his release for too long.

You gasped when his cock entered you slowly, breaching your entrance and burying itself in your tightness. Now you could feel just how incredibly close you were to bliss—only a handful more minutes of touching and penetrating would relieve you of your need.

“Oh, God!” you cried out in a gasp. “I—I… Oh…”

You felt his cock remain still inside of you as he caught his breath, trying to pace himself. His hand massaged your breast with tender, circular movements, comforting you.

You bit your lip and shut your eyes tight as you writhed gently to feel more of the pressure of his tip on that tingly spot inside you.

“You all right?” he asked. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine… I think I just… forgot how big you are.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked with a smile, slightly more cocky than his usual one-sided smirk. He slowly pushed himself deeper, his cock curving more and more inside of you. The warm, confining walls of your body clenched around him on their own accord as they adjusted to his sizable thickness. Your body had been so used to it before, but now it was almost foreign, like your first time all over again.

“So… tight,” he grumbled against your shoulder. Letting go of your breast, he snaked his hand down to your clit, moving his fingers with increasingly fast pace. “Want you to come on me… Want ya to get this cock all soakin’ wet… like a good girl.”

You giggled under your breath. After all this time, you’d still never get used to Daryl’s dirty talk, but you loved it—the way his gruff, scratchy southern drawl made those sinful words sound so sweet and nearly angelic, yet with a deep, growling animalism in the pit of his stomach.

“Mm, don’t stop,” you sighed. “I’ll… come for you.”

“You better.”

His hand applied more pressure to your outside as his cock buried deeper inside you, going all the way until his hilt hit your bottom. You stretched your leg further behind him, allowing more room for the girth of his cock, though still you were so constrained around him, a feeling that had him gasping for air between heavy, breathless breaths.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You feel so good.”

He moved as rhythmically as he could as he lay on his side, with your leg wrapped behind him and your bottom on his lower abdomen, causing him to strain. His feet anchored him, allowing his hips to thrust in steady, consistent movements. There was just enough pressure on you, just enough to get those shockwaves of bliss pumping through you as he got you closer to letting go.

The more he penetrated you, the more your body soaked him in arousal, allowing more comfort for your orgasm to soon take over. As his hand applied more pressure, you grinded yourself against his palm in a desperate attempt to get more of that sweet tingly feeling.

“Easy, girl,” he whispered in your ear. “It’s all right… I got ya… Your man’s got you. I’m home.”

“Daryl…” you whimpered shakily. “Oh, Daryl… Don’t you… ever leave me again.”

“I won’t. I got you, sunshine. Let me make you feel good, just like I used to.”

Even he was starting to crumble the closer you got to relief, and as he pleasured you, inside and out, you shut your eyes tight and felt the incoming surge of pleasure about to send shockwaves through you. Still, you weren’t quite there, and the agony of wanting that sweet feeling to send your body into unrestrained convulsions was so potent that you couldn’t stand it anymore. Your sensitive, supple body couldn’t stand it anymore.

Tears began to roll down your cheek, seeping out from between the tightly closed lids of your eyes and falling into the corners of your lips until the taste of salt melted onto your tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out, tears breaking your voice. “I need…”

“What do ya need?”

“I need to… to come.”

“You will.”

His hand gripped your mound hard and hit harder at your clit, sending you into a whimpering state of frantic writhing and panting. “Please…”

“I’m here… I got ya.”

The glass shattered when you least expected it, but it was so mind-numbingly good that you flung your head back onto his shoulder, while your body writhed and rocked back and forth in pleasure as each wave of bliss surged through you. “Yes!” you cried out. “Oh, yes… Oh, God…”

He held still inside of you as your walls clenched and squeezed around his aching cock, swollen and just about ready to burst inside you. Each pulse has him groaning against your scalp, where he’d buried his face in your hair. “Shit,” he groaned. “You’re gonna make me come, too.”

As your high subsided, you unfurled your leg and rolled more completely onto your side, careful not to let his cock go. He clung to you, his arms around your abdomen as he refused to release you from his grasp. He meant it when he said he wouldn’t leave again—he knew that from the moment he decided to come back home.

Without a word, he thrusted deep inside of you, moving at a more desperate pace. He kept his arms hugging around you, with his hand placed firmly on your stomach, where he felt his body meeting yours.

“I love you,” he panted in your ear. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, Daryl… Come inside me.”

He groaned just at the thought—the thought of filling you in the most sensual, intimate way possible, and watching it all trickle out, the proof of his love for you.

One more deep thrust and he felt the final pulse trail down his shaft, into the tip, and out into you, his moans and “ah’s” of relief sinking into your shoulder as his teeth dug a small imprint.

Your sigh of pleasure broke out into a breathy, delirious laugh, the feeling of his spend tickling you from the inside and heating you up with its warmth. He held you close by your waist as his hips kept thrusting, eager to drain every last drop inside of you.

He must’ve had so much built up inside of him, so much pent up need for release—his explosion never seemed to end. He was writhing against you, dragging heavy, open-mouthed kisses along the nape of your neck.

“Mm,” you sighed, rubbing your stomach as if you’d just eaten the best meal of your life. “You still got it, Tarzan.”

He blushed and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “Ain’t nothin’ without you, Jane.”

You turned your head till your lips met his, for the first time in so long. His tongue snaked languidly into your mouth, and yours did the same, until you pulled away, with your tongue circling over his lips.

You studied his face in the dimness of the dark room, and that sorrowful look in his eyes reminded you of your own sadness, the one that had left such a bitter taste in your mouth for so long. Daryl might’ve filled you up with sweetness again, but you wouldn’t forget how he left you.

“You jerk,” you said, much to his surprise. “You left me… I thought you’d never come back.”

“I—I know,” he said, tangling his hand in your hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” He trailed off, not sure what else to say. He never had a way with words, and he was hoping he’d proven it with his actions. “Shoulda never left. Shoulda stayed right here, with you.”

You shook your head and turned your body towards his, finally seeing him in full. It reminded you of long nights laying in bed together, talking endlessly until the sun came up, or until one of you fell asleep, usually you. Only now, instead of talking about the future, you spoke of the past, of the moment Daryl broke your heart, and his own, too.

You soon found your cheeks were soaked in tears, and his hand quickly moved to catch them. You’d cried so many times since he left, always wondering where he was, if he’d found Rick, if he was even alive. You yearned for his touch, for his thumb to brush away the tears and for his lips to kiss them away until there were no more tears left to cry.

Now, he was finally here, you just weren’t sure how to deal with it.

“I know… I know that you love me,” you said. “I know that. I just wish… I wish I would’ve wrapped myself around your ankle and made you stay.” You laughed through your tears, and he smiled, too, just a little, at the thought. “I think I loved you too much to do that… You weren’t happy. You did what you needed to do. I understand that. I mean, I didn’t like it, but I understood it.”

He shook his head. “Nah, don’t make excuses for me. You should be mad… Shoulda kicked me outta this bed.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, still tearful, but clouded now by happy tears, not sad ones. “I don’t think I could ever kick you out of bed… But I’ll tell you one thing.” You wrapped your wrists loosely around his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead touched yours. “Next time you leave like that, you might not have a warm bed, or a woman, waiting for you when you come back.”

He nodded seriously, his damp bangs tickling your nose as they fell into place. “Yes, ma’am. Don’t gotta worry about that, though. Told you, I ain’t ever leavin’ again.”

You sniffled and wiped your nose, giggling at your own emotional state. “Good. Sometimes, I felt like going out there, try to find you. Almost did once or twice. Michonne stopped me. But you know, I knew I wouldn’t be able to find you anyway.”

He sighed, the cruel sting of guilt stabbing him in the side. His chin lifted to rest on your head, as his hand moved to stroke your back, replacing your nightshirt to cover your bottom half. “You don’t belong out there,” he said. “Neither do I. I know that now. Just… had to try.”

“I know. Hero complex. I think that’s just one reason why I love you so much.”

You leaned up to kiss his forehead, nestling your nose in his scalp, where you got another good whiff of your shampoo. “Did you take a shower just for me?” you asked, slightly blushing at the idea. Of course, you knew he probably would’ve taken one anyway, but a part of you hoped that maybe, just maybe, he did it for you, knowing how much you loved him when he was clean.

He shrugged, his lips curling into a small, wry smirk. “Well, uh… Maybe. Knew you wouldn’t want me dirtying up the place.” He looked around the room, the light of the lantern behind him casting a shadow of your curved figure on the wall. Not much had changed at all since he left, other than a few of the trinkets he had brought back for you being on full display on your shared dresser. Absence really did make the heart grow even fonder, though you were always certain you couldn’t love Daryl anymore than you already did.

It reminded him of the shirt he had seen you clinging to as you slept, and how he, too, kept one of your shirts for just the same purpose. “You sleep with my shirt every night?” he asked with a slightly mischievous raised eyebrow.

You huffed. He knew the answer to that question, you could tell. “Don’t make fun,” you said. “I missed you. You’re important to me, and… sometimes, that shirt felt like all I had left of you.”

He swallowed back the lump in his throat that formed at your words, and he knew if you said anything like that again, his heart would break into a million pieces. Not only because he had put you through this, but because he knew the feeling, too. He knew the fear that he would never see you again, the uncertainty of it all.

“I, uh… I got your shirt, too.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “Huh?”

“Well, uh…” He cleared his throat. The slight embarrassment of his sentimentality made him flustered. “Ya know, I… mighta taken that white shirt with me.” Another pang of guilt knocked the wind out of him. He had taken one of your favorite shirts, for his own benefit, what kind of man was he? “I’m sorry. I shoulda asked, or—”

You laughed and squeezed him tight, nestling your head in his shoulder to kiss the junction of his neck. “That’s so sweet,” you said, choking up once again. “Sweetheart, do you have any idea how crazy I was, tearing this place apart looking for my blouse? I thought it just… grew legs and walked out of here, never to be seen again.”

“Well, I kept it in perfect condition,” he said. “Good as new. No stains, no rips, nothin’. Like it never left.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

✏ Taglist

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead smut #twd smut

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 9 months

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re: the trees outside universal studios - i also thought it just looked like pollarding, if very suspiciously timed, that certainly wouldn't qualify as severe damage to the tree & justify the kind of serious consequences people are talking about. but some people are talking like pollarding trees in the middle of summer, particularly during a heatwave, is a really risky thing to do? i know that the trees where i live always get pollarded in the winter, so do you know if there's any truth in the concern that the timing isn't just extremely convenient for the studio, but also dangerous for the trees? my mum swears that ficus trees are pretty much impossible to kill short of chopping them down

I mean it's not a good idea. This was definitely done out of malice, and without regard for proper tree practice. I wouldn't expect the trees to do as well out of it as they otherwise would if it were done in autumn (or winter in the US, I guess? We'd do autumn/winter here, because they're starting to enter tree hibernation, and have lots of rain to help them with it.)

But people are very much saying and thinking what they want on that post, tbh, I've had people reblog it from me with some incredibly histrionic "THE TREES ARE ALREADY DEAD NOW THEY JUST DON'T KNOW IT" comments. People want it to be true. So, I'm staying out of it. All I wanted to do was correct the assumptions being made by non-tree nerds that they'd been randomly vandalised out of nowhere (which is what it looks like if you've never seen a street tree be topped before) and so would definitely 100% be subject to tree laws, which is not true and you'll need to reset your hopes, like. There may be issues with permission, and maybe even the pruning schedule, but that's probably about it.

#asks #trees though #i bloody love trees #this is going to be my last word on this because I really don't have the patience for the tone others are taking #'I want it to be true so I'm going to argue it into being'#okay #but not with me you aren't

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toyoufromnow · 9 months

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Brother's Friend

.Character: Jing Yuan .Notes: Modern au. Female reader. Blade's real name is used. Dan Heng and Blade are twins brothers (sorry renheng). What am I doing.

– Jing Yuan, who’s the childhood best friend of your older brothers Ying Xing and Dan Heng. He lives next door, so it's only natural that they know each other.

– Jing Yuan who offers to help you find a date for a school’s festival dance because your overprotective brothers scare off any guy within a 50 mile radius of you.

– Jing Yuan, who used to be that pesky child who teased you with Ying Xing and read your pink, glitter diary that had a broken lock with Dan Heng, now makes your face grow warm with his charming smile and warm touches.

– Jing Yuan, who agrees and smiles a funny little smile when Ying Xing complains that “you should be thankful she isn’t your kid sister.” When you smack Ying Xing (that rascal!) on the shoulder, annoyed at the typical insult, Dan Heng sighs in exasperation and Jing Yuan holds back a chuckle. He’s definitely very thankful that he’s not your big brother.

– Jing Yuan, who always excuses himself whenever you thank him or complement him. Not because he wants to hurt you or anything - it’s just because he can’t contain his raging blush nor the excited squeal threatening to escape. You’re just too adorable!

– Jing Yuan who holds your hand and wraps his fluffy winter jacket around your shoulders to shelter you from the cold autumn afternoons when you’re walking home from school. He offered his services not just to get Ying Xing and Dan Heng out of your hair (they insist you’re too young to walk home alone - Ying Xing is more insistent than Dan Heng), but so that he gets to hold you close and spend more alone time with you.

– Jing Yuan who makes it feel so natural to have dinner together when he drops by to hangout with your brother; to lean on his shoulder when watching a home movie; to laugh and gossip about the teachers when he’s supposed to be helping you with your homework.

– Jing Yuan, whose face comes to mind when you close your eyes and try to picture the ideal date… and perhaps even the ideal boyfriend. But there’s no way he;d be interested in the baby sister of his best friends, right?

– Jing Yuan, whom you realise is actually someone you like love. It’s not awkward at all with him - you don't have to memorise conversation starters or quiz him on his hobbies. He’s comfortable to be around, and he even shares his treasured Immortal’s delight with you - and only you. INDIRECT KISS LEGGSGO

– Jing Yuan, who has a smile (smirk?) on his face that tells you he knows something that you don’t. When he pulls you up from your seat on the front porch of your house with a little too much force so that you lose your balance and fall into his arms, it’s Jing Yuan who says “I found a guy for your dance, and your brothers will approve of him because he’s their best friend.”

– Jing Yuan who chuckles when you bury your face into his neck and presses a kiss on your head. Jing Yuan who can’t help but coo when you mumble out a meek “yes,” muffled by his clothes when he asks you out.

– Jing Yuan, who’s been there from the very beginning.

#☀️.works #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr blade #hsr dan heng #star rail #honkai star rail #dan heng #x reader #honkai x reader #jing yuan #jingyuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #bbg #hehehe

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sailor-aviator · 2 months

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Hey, so...

This is going to be a LONG post, so please bare with me.

I've been doing a LOT of thinking the past week about what fics I'm doing and when. I've made some decisions that some people are probably not going to like, and I completely understand that, but at the end of the day, it's my blog and my time. I know there have been some fics that people have been very excited for, but unfortunately, things change.

As of right now, Til the Summer Comes Again is getting shelved until sometime in November. I love the fic, and I want to finish it, but I do think it'll be a lot more fun to do in the winter considering it's a Jack Frost fic. This past winter was really hectic for me considering I started a new job after being unemployed for a couple of months, and with the stress of all that and the pressure for other fics, it definitely fell by the wayside. The fic idea is something so special to me, which is why I'm shelving it instead of scrapping it altogether. We will see Jack Frost!Bob again in November!

I am also scrapping my Hadestown fic (In Spite of the Way). I'm doing this because it's such a specific story, and unfortunately, I just don't see myself being able to add anything new or interesting to the story at hand. It would just be a complete retelling of the story that's already there, and that's not something that I want to do.

I am also tabling my Studio Ghibli fics. I'm not sure if I'll ever come back to them, but they've been pushed to the side for so long that it just doesn't make sense to have them on my masterlist when it's becoming clear that other things are drawing my interests away. I'd love to re-explore them farther down the line, but for now, Our Hill of Stars and The Word of the Crooked are being taken off my masterlist. Whisper in the Wind I believe will be started come early September or so and be a part of the Autumn lineup.

Now that Meet Me at the Sea is done, my focus is going to be on finishing Fool's Fare and updating the Dagger Posse Universe here and there. Fool's Fare is most likely to be done sometime in April if I had to guess, which means...

It's time to talk the Sailor-Aviator Summer Cinematic Release schedule!

As we all know, I've just announced the MMATS stand-alone sequel: Down By the Bay featuring one Bradley Bradshaw. But what else is coming this summer? Let's talk about it!

There have been a few of you waiting for my Indiana Jones!Jake fic aka Fortune & Glory, and I'm so excited to announce that it is on the roster for this summer! Tune in to follow Jake and Bucket as they try to secure the legendary staff of Moses before the Nazis do!

Next up on the roster is the long-awaited Mafia fic! Titled after the age-old idiom, Two Birds follows the reader as they unwittingly catch the eye of not one, but two mafia bosses, both standing as the dual heads of the Dagger Syndicate. Two Birds is a M x F x M featuring Jake "Hangman" Seresin and Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw (No Hangster).

I'm hoping to start these fics anywhere from Mid-May to early June, so stay tuned!!

Meanwhile, I will be dedicating some time to the DPU as well, trying to wrap up some fics within that to hopefully have it finished (or down to the last one) by the summer's end.

If you've stuck around this long, I just want to say thank you. Not only for reading this monster of a post, but for continuing to read my work and for following and supporting me through everything! You guys are the best! Until next time~

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bridgetoesoteria · 4 months

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🥰Timeless Love Reading 💟💗

Heyy back with anotha one! ➡Poll correlates with the piles⬅

Hope it resonates :)

Collective: For everyone I am getting the message that its time to break out of limiting beliefs. It may be time to face some fears or other things you have been avoiding.

I'm using a deck that I very rarely reach for these days. It was my first deck and I loved it! But it reminds me of someone who ended up really hurting me so I avoid it. But today I felt drawn to it for this reading and realized I didn't want to let them taint my life any longer.

I feel that everyone is being called to do that in someway. Take back your power in love and start controlling the narrative more.

Using Sun and Moon Tarot + The Afro Goddess Clear Vision Duo

Pile 1: Summer

4 Card Spread: The Lovers, 3 of Cups, Queen of Wands, and Princess of Pentacles. Bottom of the deck is Ace of Swords.

I'm getting a pretty bright and cheery energy. So either this is where you are or where you are headed. Yay! Love to see it 🥳 I'm bumping some Amy Winehouse right now. It always makes me feel so sultry. That's kinda the same energy I am getting from your reading.

I think you will be going out and having a great time. You will be re-discovering your sexuality. You will truly be "feeling yourself" (no pun intended!). Some of you could be getting frisky and I see the possibility of children, so take precautions if you are not ready for kids. But for others, if that is what you are hoping for this is a good sign. Some of you may be looking to expand your families.

For others, I think you will have a suitor that comes forward and makes you forget about the past. It looks healthy and honest. (This doesn't mean trust blindly. Always maintain your boundaries and trust your intuition!). Its possible they could make a proposal like asking you on a date, asking to make it official, or something else. Seems like there is romance and mutual love ahead ♥

TL;DR: You will definitely be feeling yourself, if you aren't already. Rightfully, so! What's wrong with confidence. You might be feeling a little hot in the pants *wink wink* so take precautions if you are not looking to get pregnant. You might meet someone that is a good match. Still make sure to trust your intuition and maintain proper boundaries. These are important ingredients for any healthy relationship.

Oracle: Sensei + Passion

Hopefully, you can see the images. Look over the messages and take what resonates with you. You will know its for you by the way it makes you feel.

Yeah... I know what I'm talking about when I said I saw some spicy energy in your reading. Luckies! I am also getting a bit of a marriage vibe.

Pile 2: Autumn/Fall

4 Card Spread: King of Cups, 6 of Wands, Ace of Cups, and 2 of Pentacles. Bottom of the deck is The Emperor.

Jamming to Miss Independent by Kelly Clarkson. Go listen! It may have messages or a vibe you resonate with! Omg and now Brokenhearted by Karmin is playing. I remember when I thought this was Cher Lloyd lol... anywayy..

I am getting such good energy for this pile! I love it. You could be romantics at heart. I am getting a free spirited energy. You don't let heartbreak keep you down and jaded. You always find a way to come back out on top and open your heart again. That is seriously impressive! Its not easy or common to be that resilient! (In case you're wondering, my phone is now playing Drama Queen (That Girl) by Lindsay Lohan). Go you! 😊🙌 If you aren't here right now, this is a sign that you can get there! Manifest it!

I do see someone coming in. They give me kind of goofy energy but well-meaning. They might have more serious intentions than you think or they could have a serious side. I do feel like the ball will be in your court in some way. So just know everything can go the way you want it to. I think this can apply to love overall. You're in a very attractive energy.

If you are going through a heartbreak, you will get over it. I don't mean that in a dismissive way. It just feels like you will start to snap out of it almost. The pain may linger but you will find ways and people to distract yourself.

Some of you are wondering if you should reconcile with a certain person. I see them thinking the same thing. You both feel the same way but probably don't show it. This is probably more of a communication problem and difference in love languages. If you do decide to get back together, try to get to know each other in a more light hearted way. Focus on the moment for now, instead of the bigger picture. Maybe get one of those "couple's questions" type of decks from Amazon.

Some of you may be trying for a baby and I see positive signs here. Make sure to really tune into your empress energy. Know that you have abundance interwoven in your energy and DNA.

TL;DR: Some of you may be experiencing some friction with a partner or may be newly single. You will feel like going out and doing you. I see that you and this other person may struggle with communication and understanding each other. Take some time apart to cool off. Don't make any impulsive decisions you will regret later. If you choose to reconcile, focus on getting know each other for who you truly are. Maybe do this in a light hearted way with some couple's quizzes/games.

Oracle: The One of Wonders + Oil and Water

I'm definitely getting some kind of love-hate vibe. Someone you can't live with but you also can't seem to live without. I knew I was getting an LGBT vibe when I started this reading. I think some of you in this pile could belong to the community. Whether you are single, or going through a break with you partner, I see you dusting off the "freakum" dress and wildin out. Maybe you feel like you deserve this. You've earned the right to have some carefree nights.

Hey, I'm not going to stop you. If you like it, I love it! Go ahead and get it out of your system. Just be safe my dearies. Remember you might end up having a veryy honest discussion with a partner/love interest so don't do anything you might not want to share.

Pile 3: Spring

Off the Bat: Before I even began shuffling I was getting a kind of scorned feeling. Some of you may be thirsty for some kind of revenge. That's kind of funny because I have been wanting to do a "Get Your Lick Back" reading 🤣🤣 But I didn't know if that was too messy for the first week of 2024.

4 Card Spread: Queen of Swords, The Chariot, The Magician, and The Devil. Bottom of the deck is 6 of Cups.

I think you will be taking more charge in your love life. Its like you have a fire under you that's driving this energy. You could be experiencing some kind of heartbreak or toxic cycle.

You will probably be hearing from this person or reaching out to them yourself. It will be up to you what you want to do with this situation. You could take them back and have passion but its likely that you will realize you have outgrown this situation. I think you have learned a lot about this person and you are ready to put up better boundaries.

Some of you could be leaving this person. You may not trust that they are going to maintain whatever change they are showing you. If you do know this person to be toxic and hurtful, you are making the right choice.

Regardless of your specific situation, I do think with the Chariot and Magician in the middle of your reading, you have the power to manifest whatever you need. Harness whatever surge of passion or energy you get and use it to go after what you want. Some of you will manifest communication after a fight or about a fight or betrayal.

For others I see your relationship improving. I think more effort will be put in to try and protect your foundation. It feels a bit scattered for some reason. I think your intentions are in the right place. Perhaps you would benefit from couple's counseling or something similar.

TL;DR: You will have the choice to end a toxic relationship or cycle. Some of you may find that you have outgrown a person or situation. You could manifest communication from someone that reveals some kind of truth. For others, there is a commitment to protecting what you have built with each other. If you fall into that group, consider couple's therapy! Ball is in your court no matter where you fall.

Oracle: Oil and Water + The Librarian

Read over the information for each card. I think the messages meant for you will jump out at you.

Lift Me Up by Rihanna and Demons by Imagine Dragons may have some messages you resonate with. Also check what the year of the dragon may mean for you

Pile 4: Winter

Off the Bat: I am getting a lot of air energy! I also turned off all my music and stopped sipping. Some of you could be moving into a pretty serious energy. You have priorities and don't want to waste energy on nonsense.

4 Card Spread: Page of Swords, King of Swords, 10 of Swords, and King of Wands. Bottom of deck is 10 of Cups.

Some of you could be dealing with a break up. If it hasn't gotten to that point, there may be a lot of cold energy between you and your partner or love interest. Perhaps they want to act single and keep you a secret and you just aren't cool with that? Or perhaps they have a secret of their own. I am picking up on some kind of immature and selfish behavior. I almost want to call it ridiculous. So maybe that is how you feel. Others of them may be burying themselves in work to get over some kind of pain. Whatever the case, you are not feeling emotionally fulfilled.

You feel comfortable putting a pin in things. Even though you may feel quite compatible with this person in a lot of ways, there is something missing. I feel like there may be lack of emotional availability from both sides but it could feel like they don't see you at all.

You may find yourself walking away with a heavy heart. I am seeing you represented by some very powerful cards! The Queen of Wands and High Priestess! This person may not have acknowledged your worth but that does not mean it isn't there. You have a lot of inner strength and power. Your mind and intuition are sharp. If you know you can do better, go out there and manifest it!

TL;DR: You may be kicking an unfulfilling person or situation to the side. If you are not being recognized and cherished by your partner, I think you already feel that it is time to go. You definitely have the energy to attract what you deserve. No more settling. You are walking away to get your mind right.

Oracle: Parted Paths + The Dependent

I hope you can see that. Please take read over the messages from each card and take what resonates.

Thank you everyone for stopping by. I hope it resonates. I've never done pick a card style readings before.

#tarotcommunity #tarot #tarot reading #pick a card #intuitive readings #love reading #pick a card reading #pick a pile #relationship reading #oracle cards

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copperbadge · 3 months

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Hi! If one were to be interested in reading the shivadhverse books, is there a strong chronology between them, or can they be read in whatever order?

Oh, good question, I should put a reading-order guide up on the site. They are listed in chronological order on the sales page, but that's a lot of reading to figure it out.

So -- in theory you can pick up any of the first four and read them first and pretty much be okay, but definitely there are spoilers in the later books for stuff in the earlier, and you might not have an easy time tracking all the characters. They do have a distinct chronology, and particularly after the first three books it gets more difficult to read out of order.

The chronological order is:

Fete For A King -- winter through spring 2021

Infinite Jes -- spring and summer 2021

The Lady And The Tiger -- spring 2022

Those three are also collected into a single volume, "The Shivadh Romances Volume 1" in reading order, if you want to pick up all three and not worry about which comes first. After that:

The Twelve Points of Caleb Canto -- prologue takes place in autumn 2021, but the action takes place in spring 2022

Dinner at The Palace (short stories taking place from before the books up to the end of Twelve Points)

The Royals And The Ramblers (not yet published) -- summer 2022 through spring 2023

The good news is, the earliest books are also the shortest, thus the cheapest, so if you're buying the books you're not investing in a massive tome. And if you find you don't like Fete -- well, I'd give Infinite Jes a shot, but if you don't like Fete or Infinite Jes, the rest are in the same vein, so you haven't read like 500 pages of fiction only to decide you don't want to read the rest :D

#shivadhverse #endrega23

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 2 months

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I just saw a commercial for E.L.F. Cosmetics featuring some of the cast from Suits. Duchess wasn’t in the ad. It was kind of random and I only knew it was them because of Gina Torres. It’s strange to me that a middling basic cable law show that ended five years ago is now back again because it was on NF over the winter. I guess I just don’t get the hype.

I don't know the appeal for Suits, the show itself. I watched it when it first came out but lost interest halfway through the first season and never picked it up again. It's pretty basic, unremarkable, and unmemorable. If you were to ask me to name 5 legal TV shows off the top of my head, Suits wouldn't even crack the top 10.

But I'm fairly certain the reason why Suits got popular last year had everything to do with the writers' and actors' strikes. From about May 2023 onwards (to just this month/February 2024), there was barely any new television during the summer and fall/autumn. Everything was in reruns, which meant if you wanted to watch television, you either watched the reruns, found new-to-you shows to stream, or you watched reality TV, including sports. Suits just happened to be one of the shows people picked up on streaming. For some strange whatever reason.

I don't actually think as many people watched Suits last year as the execs are bragging. There's huge industry in places like China and Brazil where people turn on these streamer shows and just let them run all day, every day, on nonstop loops. They get paid for this, the show's ratings explode, and we get stories like "the most watched show EVER." I think there's a very good chance that some of Meghan's bot farms were repurposed to watch Suits so she could tease an acting comeback because her old show is in such demand...but I don't think she expected her old castmates to be so transparent about how she ghosted them after the wedding and no one knows how to get in touch with her. To me, it definitely hints that something went down and they definitely want to make it clear they're not in touch with Meghan (i.e., "stop asking us!"). Otherwise they would've done the more typical "it's been a minute but she's doing really wonderful things and we're so proud of her" small talk.

#ask #brf

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mermaidsirennikita · 1 year

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So You'd Like to Fuck a Villain: Romance Novel Recommendations

Have you gotten caught up in a villain ship? Are you, perhaps, what might be called a villainfucker?

The issue with stanning for villains and wanting them to have romantic love and happiness and possibly group sex, is that they often don't. At least, not onscreen. Some of the most popular romantic ships, obviously, have been villain ships--Reylo spawned a wave of romance novelists (though, I might add, many do not actually write villain-centric romance novels, which is fine), Darklina powered no small part of Shadow and Bone's publishing success... and let's be real, the success of the soon-to-be-ill-fated-from-what-I'm-hearing TV show. On a darker level, Interview with the Vampire took off in no small part because people love the tainted love that is Louis and Lestat, where maybe? They're both villains? (Definitely more Lestat, but you know.)

You know what the great thing about a romance novel is? The villain has to get a happy ending. They just must. It's a rule. If a villain is a lead, the HEA is guaranteed (rhymes), or it's not a romance novel.

So, for Cupid's birthday, I'm recommending some of my favorite villainfucking romance novels. I just think that we deserve it.

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Wicked Villains by Katee Robert.

As you might guess, this series is in fact about villains getting their happy ending, full stop. And it does so by adapting Disney villain ships and placing them in a contemporary setting full of organized crime, sex clubs, and deals gone wrong. It is fun, it is campy, and it is very, very sexy. Check the trigger warnings (which Robert typically lists for each book on her website)--some of these do feature heavy BDSM and CNC.

The diversity of the pairings is so appreciated--while my favorite thus far is the first, Desperate Measures (Jafar/Jasmine with a mob wife "you killed my father" spin, for those curious) you get several triads (Hades/Hercules/Meg, Beast/Gaston/Belle, Ursula/Ariel/Eric, to name a few) and the ever-coveted sapphic Maleficent/Aurora moment. I don't think there's a straight person in this collection of characters. Contemporary romance can be a hard sell for me, especially in terms of villainy... But these are just a ride.

HISTORICAL ROMANCE

Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas.

Obviously, if you haven't read Devil in Winter yet, you need to read Devil in Winter. It's a classic--not just of historical romance, but romance in general. Though, pro-tip: I would recommend reading the preceding It Happened One Autumn first, as that's where the villainy takes place. Devil in Winter is about a recovering villain--a rake who did a very, very bad thing (kidnapping his best friend's lady love) simply because he did not want to get a job. I mean.....

Sebastian St. Vincent is a soft touch villain, and not just because he's super good at touching. You know he's going to roll over and beg for it with his seemingly-gentle, secretly-iron-willed heroine; but it's watching him get there that's so fun. His bark is worse than his bite, but he does deliver quite a bark (and quite a bite). If you like 'em snarky and slutty, read this book.

Duke of Sin by Elizabeth Hoyt.

If you like a blond villain who seems better at lounging about than doing manual labor, Valentine Napier takes what St. Vincent was doing to another level of insanity. St. Vincent is sane; Valentine is not, and he's a lot less fun about his kidnappings. Fortunately, his heroine (dispatched to spy on and steal from him) does not take any shit.

This is a book for those who like them loony, because I really don't think Valentine reforms in the least. He just falls in love, all while running around naked in bedazzled, open robes and brandishing a knife. At least he's good in bed and keeps giant, nude portraits of himself in his own house. Keep in mind that this book does delve into some pretty massive childhood trauma, including all kinds of abuse.

Villain I'd Like to F...

This anthology of novellas delves into five stories of historical romance villainy, by five great authors. I'm going to list each novella and its author, as these collections typically disband after a period of time, allowing the authors to sell the novellas individually (though you often can find the collections in online libraries like Libby). In the brackets!

[ Lady Viper and the Bastard by Eva Leigh.

Do you enjoy Dangerous Liaisons? Try this delightfully sexy Georgian-era novella about a widowed vamp and an illegitimate libertine, teaming up to break apart two young lovers (for a price). Except what happens when these two assholes start to catch feelings? Notable in that these characters are in their forties, know themselves, and do engage in some fun role-playing.

Seven Sinful Nights by Nicola Davidson.

Our young-but-ready widowed heroine is toiling in the service of her dickish in-laws... Until the owner of the local gambling hell (who isn't above murder and torture, and does enjoy dominating a bit) shows up demanding payment for her brother-in-law's debts. Those who love an innocent heroine lured by the darkness will love this one, a she very much goes willingly to her "doom" of being his mistress for a week, and loves every minute of it. It's sexy, it's sweet, she also loves a torture moment, there's some exhibitionism.

The Gangster's Prize by Joanna Shupe.

A Gilded Age gangster is thrown off balance by the young woman who comes to him demanding help in finding her missing father. But wait... who's in his dungeon as we speak? Could it be? Her dad? Joanna doesn't pull her punches here, and it's delightfully wacky. Watching our hapless villain hero be like "uhh, what screams from the dungeon" while our heroine looks for her father... who he has captive.. is hilarious.

The Bootlegger's Bounty by Adriana Herrera.

Did someone say sort-of pirates? Our heroine is a nightclub singer, and she books passage to New York with a dangerous rum runner. There's a lot of sex in this one, and--delightfully--a triad, as there happens to be a young gentleman who catches the eye of both our singer and our rum runner...

The Conquering of Tate the Pious by Sierra Simone.

Hedonistic nuns? A Norman invader (in more ways than one) who turns out to be a lady conqueror? As in, a conqueror who is a lady and conquers ladies? I think yes. Our proud abbess Tate is ready to stand up to the Wolf, but what happens when the Wolf is very sexy and cruel in the best possible way? ]

The Prince of Broadway by Joanna Shupe.

If there's one thing Joanna Shupe loves, it's a hero (or a villain turned hero) who hates your dad. This book opens with our casino-owning hero beating the shit out of someone, and when he meets the headstrong spoiled rich girl who wants to open a casino for ladies and needs mentorship... He takes her up on it. All while planning to take down her father (as revenge!!!).

While Clay isn't a super hardcore bad guy, he is pretty violent and pretty diabolical. What makes this book is, of course, his dynamic with Florence, and her defiance of norms that quickly has him completely besotted. This book has a very good grovel, and it should. Does anyone deserve Florence?

... and after reading this one, you can mosey over to Shupe's next book, The Devil of Downtown, in which a bad, bad gangster gets his ass emotionally kicked by Florence's goody goody angelic sister.

The Dragon and The Pearl by Jeannie Lin.

This is another one that benefits from reading its previous book, Butterfly Swords, first. In that novel we're introduced to the treacherous warlord our heroine is fleeing--Li Tao. Lin doesn't shy away from his intimidation factor: he even gets into a sword fight (that turns into an outright brawl, lmao) with the hero. In this novel, Li Tao gets full focus, kidnapping a former emperor's concubine to get information out of her.

What follows is a match of wits that gradually gives way to two manipulative, emotionally closed off people falling madly in love with each other while being unable to say it. Li Tao is a cold, seemingly-unfeeling villain-as-hero, and he really pushes how far he's willing to go to reach his end goals in this book. Also, there's a sex deal. If that matters to you.

Daring and The Duke by Sarah MacLean.

Again, one that does in fact benefit from reading the two preceding books, Wicked and The Wallflower and Brazen and The Beast (fortunately, they're both good!). Ewan, our titular duke, is the villain of both--and he is completely batshit insane in his pursuit of his childhood sweetheart, Grace. Who, for reasons relating to villainy, wants absolutely nothing to do with him.

This is a book-long grovel the way Sarah MacLean does it best--with abject shame and humiliation. Ewan is put through the ringer: and he should be, because he did a really bad thing! And was legitimately a nutjob of a villain! But that's what makes it so, so good.

PARANORMAL/FANTASY ROMANCE

The Four Horsemen by Laura Thalassa.

This series has the rather bold take of "what if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse Fucked". Starting with Pestilence, bleeding into War and Famine, and ending with Death, this series is a bit bonkers. But it doesn't let up on the extent of the villainous heroes' determination to lay waste to the world. There is a lot of gore. There is a lot of moral ambiguity.

But it's also legitimately funny. Pestilence discovers the joys of a bathtub. Death receives his first blowjob and is like "I don't know, maybe the apocalypse is bad". It's campy, and it's fun, and it leans the fuck in to the concept. I would recommend reading these in order, as the love stories stand alone but the overall arc leads to a big finish (and there are lots of finishes in between, if you know what I'm say--)

The Tenebris Trilogy by Kathryn Ann Kingsley.

If you're interested in the occult and some Lovecraftian vibes set in a pseudo-1920s world, this is it. Our heroine is on the search for her brother, and who is to assist but his stuffy-hot professor who happens to be a cult leader and has perhaps merged his body with that of a Cthulu monster?

What's interesting about this series (which cannot be read as standalones, and must be read in order) is that our hero is legitimately loony tunes, and our heroine is into it. She falls in love with him and his monsters, and that does... extend to the physical. (Tentacles, everyone! Shadow tentacles! Think Venom.) I will add that there's a lovely secondary romance with a trans heroine (with a hero that's not a villain) and it is excellent, but at one point an antagonist is transphobic towards her. An attempted off-page forced detransition occurs. The main heroine is totally supportive of the secondary heroine and stops it, but read with caution.

Kiss of a Demon King by Kresley Cole.

This rare villainess/hero romance sees a sorceress heroine take a deposed demon king captive to coerce him into impregnating her so that she can bear his heir (all for villainous purposes, of course). Yes. So this book is heavy on the dubcon--lots of edging, lots of people chained to beds--but to be frank? He is into it. We have a stern, morally upright hero being driven to the brink by the baddest of bad girls, and it's great.

This book is a bit controversial because of the content, and I do recommend checking out my IAD Cheat Sheet before reading for a full list of triggers/details about the world of Immortals After Dark. But it reads fairly well on its own, and I personally adore it. The sex is hot, the romance is angsty, he gets back at her in every possible way, and it's so fun to see a villainess take center stage and bring out the dark side of such a noble hero.

Dreams of a Dark Warrior by Kresley Cole.

Here, we focus on an immortal valkyrie heroine who's had centuries of near-misses with her would-be Berserker love--every time she kisses him, he remembers his past lives with her and promptly dies in increasingly gruesome ways. He's always be good and loving to her... which is why she's so shocked when he returns to her, this time in the form of an immortal-hating torturer who's taken her captive.

This one is dark--yes, he does torture her (not that badly, but there are other scenes of torture at the hands of different villains which are... bad). But if you can hang in there, I think you'll find a very compelling romance with a legitimately troubled, intense hero and a woman he can't get out of his head. There's also a very, very good bathtub scene that turns into "let me blindfold you so you can't see my hideous scars".

Lothaire by Kresley Cole.

The villain romance to end all villain romances (best read after Dreams, so you get the one-two punch of a pair of very different villainous heroes). What happens when you mix a 3,000-year-old megalomaniacal vampire with a 24-year-old whip-smart human woman he believes houses the soul of the goddess he's supposed to wed? A fucking ride, and possibly my favorite romance ever, that's what.

Lothaire goes HARD. It goes hard on the villainy (this is a story of a villain falling in love, not a villain finding redemption), it goes hard on the sex (with possibly one of the most infamous sex scenes in romance, and I love every word of it), and it goes hard on the angst. As much as Lothaire fucks with Ellie's head and is determined to deny his love for her, she's determined to one-up on him and will never, ever break. I think this book is always best summed up in a scene early on where he kisses her, bites her lip, and draws back, smugly expecting horror--only to find her grinning through the blood and pulling him in for another kiss. Tell me that isn't villain romance perfection.

Sworn to the Shadow God by Ruby Dixon.

Not so much a super hard villain romance as it is a "falling in love with Death himself" book, this wacky romance finds our gamer girl heroine falling through a portal to another land and... yes, sworn as the mortal companion of the God of Death as he attempts to complete a trial set before him by the father god. It is funny, it is sexy, it's adventurous, and it is for the Reylos.

You think I'm joking. No. He is very clearly modeled after Kylo Ren, and he sweeps around in dark cloaks and emo smashes about being the God of the Death, and it is glorious. He's less bad than he is detached and uncaring, but, you know... Death. By the end of the book, though? He cares very much about one particular person.

Look, man. Check your triggers always, especially with romance novels about villains. These won't work for everyone. But I imagine... if you like a villain... some of these are for you.

#romance novel blogging #book recs #books #anyway happy fuckin v day

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