#we love manly men

[francixoxoxo]

Modern!Billy would 1000% listen to Tom Petty and Bruce Springsteen, you can’t change my mind

He’s absolutely putting on his Petty record, skipping to Mary Jane’s Last Dance and singing it in the most dramatic voice he can muster, and you’re laughing at him, which was exactly his goal. If you’re doing something, I’m picturing you’re standing at the kitchen counter, bookmarking pages in a new cookbook, and you hear that damn record come on. You look over your shoulder at the first guitar riffs and you see Billy dancing up to you, grinning like anything, “She grew up in an Indiana town, had a good lookin’ mom, who ne’er was around!”

You can’t help laughing at him, but he doesn’t mind. He steals you away from the counter, it’s not a slow dance, certainly not to the harmonicas and guitars of Tom Petty, but it as dance all the same. “Oh my my, oh hell yes! Honey, put on that party dress!” Who are you to deny Billy a dance? You let his hands come to your waist, even singing along with him, to his absolute delight. He’d absolutely whistle that iconic harmonica line of Mary Jane’s Last Dance while he works, while he’s walking around, all the time, same thing with humming under his breath, “Into the great wide open, under them skies of blue..”

In his truck, he’d totally have a collection of Springsteen CD’s. The truck’s pretty old and pretty crappy, so there’s no aux, just a cd slot. “I don’t mind, baby. S’ hell of a lot cooler than a phone.” Billy would tell you, grinning boyishly as he pushes the manual shift into drive (btw this guy totally swears by driving stick shift and probably is appalled that you don’t know how bc literally who does). His favorite is absolutely Dancing in the Dark, and the moment the song comes on that man is belting. The more embarrassed you are and the harder you laugh at him the more he leans over the console, singing the lyrics with even more pride. “Ya can’t start a fire without a spark! This guns for hire, even if we’re just dancin’ in the dark!” His hand on your knee you absolutely shake your leg a little, ‘cause he knows you think he’s corny. He knows that you think it’s funny that he listens to the music your dad listens to.

But he also knows that you think he’s never been hotter, practically shouting more than singing, his brow and neck sweating a bit from the hot New Mexico summer in a pickup truck without any AC besides the wind blowing past. With his left arm hanging over the rolled down window, driving with one hand on the bottom of the wheel, the defined muscles in his arms shown off by his navy, sleeveless shirt. Those eyes peering at you now and then, those stupidly plush lips pulling over his teeth to laugh at you, tell you that you’re staring. So what if you are? Billy’s yours to stare at— and laugh at.

Might have written this bc I whipped out the Tom Petty record last night when I lost my phone

[rejectedfables]

So the villain is a girldad. Who cooks?

Do they eat out every night? Get takeout or delivery Do they eat from his favorite restaurant or hers?

Does he hire a chef?

Does she cook for him?

Or does he roll up his sleeves and pick up his knife and learn to peel potatoes?

Long paper-thin swirls of vegetable skin Trash or compost? Do they plant a garden?

Did he already know how to cook? Or does he learn badly slowly starting with the easy recipes to keep a hungry girl fed Or does he buy cookbooks and oven mitts and fresh produce? Does he learn to bake?

[caniddteeth]

i desperately need more yancy content please please please pl

[a-a-a-anon]

if i had a nickel for every time a male british comedian i like said that on a childhood birthday a patriarch in their family said they were too old to hug and kiss them bc it's girly/gay i would have two nickels???? which isn't a lot but it's weird it happened twice....

(ade edmondson:)

(jon richardson:)

I went to kiss my granddad once-I would have only been about 7 or 8, but I'd had clearly what my grandad viewed as a landmark birthday. I went to say goodbye, and I kissed my Nana Gwen and went to kiss my Grandad Ron, and Grandad Ron said, "You're a man now. You don't kiss other men anymore." (- meet the richardsons 2.08)

[karinyosa]

one realization i’ve had is that a lot of the models for masculinity and/or manhood that i kind of gravitated to when i was younger were not the most typically masculine. it’s weird having things in common with other transmascs but also very clearly going for different things. like i feel a kinship with you but sometimes i think we’re not quite the same. also been a reminder of like what kid me was actually going for when i dressed and acted The Way i Did in middle school

[punk-pins]

i hope every man in my workplace kills himself when taylor swift wins the super bowl

[tiredtriedfailures]

masculinity and femininity are roleplay and sometimes foreplay its not your person its not who you are what you did and what you will do its not your fate its not your cage its the funny voice you put on to imitate a tv character its cosplay its facepaint, not like a makeup of a bride but like a clown getting ready for performance.

[kannra21]

Never trust Instagram pics there are filters that can make u look like a total bimbo lol anyways the filter is called "Tiger" by sasha_soul_art, try it out 🤗

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Imagine doing so much hard work and persevering through law school to have your failed tests advertised on the internet news. The bar is really hard; he’s not “cringe fail.” I am jealous of his ability to even attend college without committing suicide. He did a good job. Leave my dude the fuck alone.

I don’t care if they’re elites. If they’re elites; then make fun of them solely for being rich nepotism babies. There are non-elites who have failed the bar (or any important test) once or twice as well who will see this and feel bad about themselves.

[hylemorph]

Spoilers: Eggers' Nosferatu

There's a lot of debate right now on if Count Orlok represents Ellen's shame/trauma/abuse, or if he represents her repressed erotic desires, and in turn there's debate on whether or not viewers who find the Ellen/Orlok dynamic alluring are "missing the point." Eggers and Lily-Rose Depp have both said in interviews that there's a mutual pull between Ellen and Orlok, and even that there's a love triangle element, but obviously the experience is terrifying for Ellen. How can we reconcile the sexual tension and the horror?

I think the broader theme is that Orlok represents everything in a woman's inner world that men refuse to acknowledge and accept - fear and shame and trauma, yes, but also our appetites . After the prologue, the story starts with Ellen begging Thomas to stay in bed with her; she says "the honeymoon was yet too short" and tries to pull him in and kiss him (obviously trying to start some nuptial bliss). But Thomas is anxious to meet with his boss and get his promotion, because he has a narrative he's going to fulfill: he's going to pay Friedrich back, buy a house, and then start having kids (he and Friedrich touch on this a bit later. Notably, Friedrich discloses Anna's pregnancy to Thomas before Anna has made it public.)

It's the start of Ellen and Thomas' married life and she just wants him to prioritize her sexual desire, but he chooses to focus on his ideal of success, which sets him on this path to confronting Orlok. We know Ellen doesn't care about having a house or fine things and she begs him not to go, but Thomas listens to Herr Knock and Friedrich, who tell him that as a husband he has to provide materially. He ignores Ellen's stated desires, and so fails to provide sexually and emotionally. When Thomas gaslights her about her nightmares and calls them childish fancies, he shuts down her vulnerability, which kills the intimacy she was enjoying in the literal honeymoon phase.

On a related note, there's a defence in here for Aaron Taylor Johnson's performance, which I've seen a few male critics call "over acting." In this story Friedrich represents the masculine ideal of the time, he's a rich business owner with a beautiful wife and kids. Thomas clearly looks up to him and wants to emulate him - he wants to give Ellen the life "she deserves." But Friedrich's elevated masculine status is why he refuses to listen to Ellen's "hysterical, sentimental" worries, he's too rational for all that of course. And his stubborn "rationality" leads to the death of his entire family. Friedrich IS the patriarchal ideal that crumbles when confronted with nuance and uncertainty. Some people see Friedrich and assume that a character like him is meant to come across as dignified, and that Aaron Taylor Johnson is messing up by making him look annoying, but really he is giving a great portrayal of a really common, annoying kind of guy. The kind of guy who melts down and has childish tantrums whenever they lose control of a situation, or their manly skills and values are shown to be irrelevant.

The men in the movie (excluding Professor von Franz) frame Ellen as childish for speaking about her dreams candidly, but their own childishness is revealed when her dreams manifest in the form of Orlok and become unavoidable. Ellen (partially? possessed in the moment by Orlok) tells Thomas how "foolish and like a child" he was in Orlok's castle. In the literal context that's cruel, and obviously that shit was scary as hell, but it hits on Thomas' failure in the metaphorical reading. He was a child playing house: 'I'll be the husband and make money, you be the wife and make babies.' When it came time to confront his wife's inner world and all the scary, traumatized, lustful complexity of it, he was completely inept. The message isn't that Orlok is what Ellen really needs, or that Thomas is a wimp, but he's not a perfect husband either. I think "the point" is that a real healthy marriage with sexual, emotional, and spiritual mutuality is impossible in that society with Thomas/Friedrich's ideals. In that kind of society, a spiritually and sexually potent woman like Ellen ("in heathen times you might have been a Priestess of Isis") will always be caught in a "love triangle" with her husband and her own inner world.

[thymechaos]

i just can't believe that oda fucking create sanji, a stereotypical ladies man who simps to an embarrassing degree for women while having his hackles comically raised around everyone he perceives as a man - and most notably butting heads with the more obvious ~manly man~ of the crew. haha, classic anime running gag, the kind that gets obnoxious at times but still makes you laugh.

AND THEN, like a billion chapters later, motherfucker steeples his fingers and goes "soooooooo... what makes a person Like That?"

and the answer is that he grew up in fucking Toxic Masculinity, The Kingdom. the answer is that he was always Different, in a way other guys instinctively perceived as weak, and that made him the target of visceral scorn and violence. the answer is that he was sensitive, sweet, caring, nurturing - feminine-coded traits which are only valued by patriarchy insofar that they're performed by women in service of men. the answer is that in a kingdom comprised almost entirely by violent men, the only ones who were ever kind to him, the only safety he ever had, were a girl and a woman.

so cooking is for women and servants, it makes you less of a man. only women will ever really value you for your passions and dreams. women are also actively hurt by the way the world works, they are unsafe unless they comply with men's violence, and you have to protect them.

(men will always know what you are, and they will hurt you if you let them.)

and even after he leaves... at baratie he is cherished and respected, but even that is an extremely masculine environment. we don't talk about our feelings, we don't let our guard down, the only love is tough love. when he tries to express his artistry and express himself through his cooking, rather than just filling orders and making money, he gets mocked.

so here is a man who will not raise a hand to a woman, because he rejects the masculinity he was raised with and refuses to become yet another man subjecting women to violence. he is desperate for women's attention and affection because it's SAFE, it's the only kind he can trust. other men are potential threats and must be treated as such. he must at all times be snarky, tough, Not Feminine, because to be perceived otherwise is to be powerless, to be hurt.

like y'all. the queer coding of it all? the overtly feminist themes? the active rejection of toxic masculinity and the way it's shown to be directly tied to imperialism? what the fuck.

[thestuffedalligator]

When ogres travel, they do so in human shape.

They hate doing this. They think it’s beneath them. But they do it anyway.

The Vicomte Graoul de Saucisson – and this is another thing about ogres. Ogres as a species are nobility. There is no such thing as a low-born ogre. There is always room in the ogrish peerage for another vicomte, another prince, another branch to tie to the rotted tree – strode up to the chateau in human shape. The roses in the garden shivered as he passed by. The huge, high doors opened by themselves and he walked through them without a shift in his stride.

When the doors slammed shut behind him, he moved to shrug the shape off his shoulders like a coat.

Then he saw the woman.

He froze. He stared. She stared back.

He slowly pulled the shape back on. “Who are you?” he asked.

She looked mildly appalled. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing in my home?”

“Your home? This is–” He stopped. He reconsidered. “I am the Vicomte de Saucisson,” he said. “I’m looking for the Marquis de Pamplemousse. He is a… colleague of mine.”

“Oh,” she said. She could’ve looked more abashed. “I’m sorry, monsieur, he’s never mentioned you before. You must be here to share your congratulations, of course, I can fetch him right away.”

“He’s never mentioned you either,” the vicomte did not say. “Of course,” he said. “Congratulations. What about?”

She seemed surprised. “Have you not heard? Monsieur, the curse on my husband has been lifted.”

He stared. His lips started to form the words “What curse,” and then there was a sound like a horse falling down a set of stairs and a man he had never seen before wearing the marquis’s clothes came barrelling down the hall.

“Vicomte!” said the man with the marquis’s voice. “My human friend! The curse has been lifted, and I am a human once again!”

He was slightly out of breath when he reached the woman. He clasped her arm and grinned at him with manic desperation. “This is wonderful news! You must be here to share your congratulations!”

“Lie like hell,” said the man’s eyes.

The vicomte stared. “Oh!” he said. “My – human friend! Human once again! Words fail me. After all these–” (there was the slightest hesitation) “–years?”

The woman put her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes at him.

The man walked up, still grinning like a rictus chimpanzee, and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, of course! Darling, me and the vicomte are going to have a manly one-on-one conversation while he shares his congratulations, as we human men are wont to do.” And then with a strength that could only be ogrish, the marquis pulled the vicomte by the shoulder down the hall and into a drawing room.

When the bolt of the lock clicked into place behind them, the man wearing the marquis’s clothes visibly sagged.

“What the hell,” said the vicomte.

“You should’ve sent word ahead that you'd be coming today.”

“I never do.” He gesticulated and tried to conjure a single question out of the swarm buzzing in his brain. “What the hell is going on? Who was that? Why are you pretending to be human? What curse are we talking about?”

The marquis groaned and crumpled into a chair. As he did he shifted out of human shape, clothes magically tailoring themselves to contain his ogrish form, something like a moose and an orangutan.

“I had a moment of weakness.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a stroke?”

“I got married.”

“And that’s another thing–”

“Graoul, please.” He sighed and put his face in his talons. “Last winter a merchant broke into my home. He stole one of my roses, and in exchange I asked him to send me one of his daughters to be my bride.”

The vicomte nodded. This at least was a sacred and recognizable ogrish custom, and he did like to see the old ways in practice.

“And it was fine! It was perfectly lovely. She’s a wonderful woman, but one night I decided to put on a human shape to change things up in the bedroom, and she lost her mind! Started talking about how I was clearly an enchanted prince and that her love for me must’ve broken some curse and turned me human again! I had no idea how to tell her otherwise, and now I’ve done it for too long to back out.”

The vicomte stared. “Sorry,” he said. “You decided to turn into a human to spice things up in the bedroom, and that was the face you chose?”

The marquis growled. “If I knew I was going to be wearing it for the rest of my life I would’ve gone with something better.”

[godjustkys]

bet I love Chase. Okay, consider Chase who's stuck defending himself to the team that he is not gay.. at all. But despite all that, he's still spending way too much time with the sweet, friendly doctor in another unit who nobody would suspect because he's just this typical small dork. Who may or may not be busy fucking Chase during lunch hours

THEME: chase denying the ‘accusations’ whilst actually taking it up the ass. seriously.

CHARACTER: male reader x robert chase

NOTE: THIS IS SO STUPID I FUCKING LOVE IT

this is after I've written it and I might've forgotten the ‘who nobody would suspect’ part... also it's very short D:

p.s. requests are always open!!

WARNING: light mention of hilson,, light exhibitionism,, public sex,, pathetic chase,, light praise,,

“no,” chase protested. “no, seriously, I’m not— into men. like I’m not gay.” cameron chuckled as she shook her head, foreman just raising his eyebrows, clearly not believing him. “yeah, and i haven’t fucked wilson.” house spoke up, leaning on his cane. this statement earned concerned glances from the trio. “i mean it’s a lie. you’re a big fat liar,” house said flatly. chase sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “i’m not gay!” he protested once more, trying to convince them. “i have literally had sex with cameron?” chase suggested, almost incredulously. “woah, stop right there, don’t bring me into this,” cameron raised her hands in surrender, narrowing her eyes. “okay, okay, you’re not gay, we believe you,” foreman said unconvincingly, looking through the file. “except we don’t,” house spoke up again. “mind telling me who the pretty guy is?” he asked.

“what?” chase questioned dumbly. “the pretty guy. look, i can appreciate a man’s beauty, alright? now tell us who's the guy you've been having lunch with.” house cleared up. the blonde just blinked, swallowing hard. “him? he’s— he’s just a friend,” he reasoned, trying to keep his voice steady. “uh-huh, i thought wilson and house were friends, but apparently they fucked,” foreman butted in, looking over at house, clearly worried. “excuse me, we did what?” wilson, now standing in the doorway, questioned. “stay quiet, honey, we’re trying to figure out some manly business.” house told wilson off, shooing him away with his hand.

“when have we fucked?—”

“i said stay quiet, honey, chase over here has to tell us who he is having lunch with.” house cut his best friend off, sending him a dissatisfied glare. chase stood up with a huff. “this is ridiculous,” he said. “i’m takin’ a break.” the blonde added, walking out of the office, past a very confused wilson. house, of course, called after the man. “give him a kiss and tell him i said hi!”

“mmh— mh— mphhh!” the noises were lewd, so filthy, yet muffled by your hand. chase's hands were on the wall, grasping at nothing. his head tilted back slightly, eyes screwed shut. “shh, c’mon, chase, quiet..” you cooed softly in his ear, your cock stretching chase's hole deliciously. the blonde’s chest was heaving, his back arched. you snapped your hips forward - deeper, earning a gasp from chase. you didn’t trust him to keep his noises down. “atta boy, jus’ like that,” you added in a whisper, your hot breath hitting the shell of his ear. “nghh- mmm! mhh, mh, mhh—” the noises continued to spill nonstop. your free hand was on his ass, kneading the flesh as you pounded into him. you did your best to minimize the noises of skin slapping against skin, just in case anyone walked by the janitor’s closet.

chase leaned his forehead against the wall, letting out a soft sob against your hand. eventually, you took your hand off, letting him take a proper breath. he inhaled deeply, exhaling shakily. “god— ughh, fuck, yes, keep going...” he whined, his voice hushed and breathless. “you sound- amazing,” you rasped out, pressing a kiss to the back of his bare shoulder, slowing your pace to steady, languid yet deep motions, prodding at his prostate with your tip. “hhh..hahh.. ahh— shit..” chase moaned sweetly, managing to keep his voice lower than usual. he shifted on his feet slightly, trying to find better leverage. he started rolling his hips back to meet yours, groaning quietly each time he did. “you’re not scared, are you? of getting caught?” you inquired, pressing your nose to his hair and inhaling his scent. he didn’t find his voice quick enough, therefore he answered you with a small shake of his head. in truth, he was. he was scared shitless; especially of house. house had caught him with cameron once, who’s to say he won’t do it again with you?

“pretty sure- it violates workplace etiquette.” you reminded him. he moaned softly in response to you. clearly, work etiquette was not on his mind right now. he couldn't care less. chase was close, you could tell by his taut back muscles. it was a thing you noticed with these quickies which seemed to be happening more often than not. “ah, you close, baby?”

“ah- mhmm, jus’.. jus’ keep goin’..” his voice was a little slurred.

“at your service, pretty.” you said as you leaned your forehead against the back of chase’s head, moving both of your hands to his hips, grasping lightly. you sped up your pace slightly, just watching as your cock disappeared into his tight hole. he clenched around you, a moan getting punched out of his throat. a broken whimper followed suit, his thighs trembling as he came; white ropes of cum dripping down his cock. a couple moments later, you did as well. it was a pretty easy cleanup, considering you were wearing a condom - so, no creampie unfortunately.

chase walked back into the office, now, only house present. he had sent the others off to treat a patient.

“what is it with you and closet sex?” house asked bluntly, his eyebrows furrowed in faux confusion.

oh no.

[yanderedrabbles]

So I've been rereading the wild west gang cause I'm a degenerate who also lives in a bumfuck nowhere developing country who has nothing to do. So I've been thinking, it was established that if we would favorite one of the outlaws, it might be dangerous for the both of us. But what if we un-favorite one of them, if that makes sense. Like, what if only really struggled and cried when with the gunslingers, and obviously much less so with the others. Or even funnier, if instead of the gunslingers, it would be the pale guy (is that his name?).

Sorry for that brainfart. Keep doing the lord's work

P.S. I would also turn patriotic and join the army to protect your brilliant mind xx

oooh this is such a great question. I had to think about it for a while but I think not liking someone is a whole different dynamic.

Showing one of them more favour than the other's is a recipe for disaster. You're giving one man what all the others want, what they feel entitled to. It's going to bring about all sorts of ugly jealousy, even in a band as tight knitted as this one.

But if you don't like someone? If you show time and again that this person in particular has the touch most abhorrent to you? To them, that's just less competition. If anything, it makes them feel smug that it isn't them getting on your bad side. I can see a lot of mocking between them, a lot of smug insults traded when they drink too much.

How each outlaw reacts to being that person is entirely different though:

I think the boss will be calm about it. It's not surprising that you don't want him to touch you. He's a lot older, his hands are too hard with labour. Little thing like you probably spent her whole life dreaming of a lover soft and sweet, only to end up trapped by a bastard like him. He understands. And as the leader, I don't think he gets insecure about it either. He's already the top dog, he can afford to let the others enjoy your kindness. But it won't stop him from using you. Won't stop him from holding you down and taking what you don't willingly offer.

The gunslingers take it poorly. Manly, rough, mean. To them it's an insult that you're being more submissive or sweet with the other men. Are they not fucking you well enough? Are they not making you come hard enough? It's a slight against their masculinity.

They aren't the type to sit and reflect. They won't realise that maybe the reason you're so difficult is because they're just too rough with you. Hell, the thought won't even cross their minds. Their solution is to double down. To take it out on you with teeth and nails and cock shoved in when you're not nearly ready. If they can't make you love them, the least they can do is make you hate them the most. At least hate is passion of some sort.

The wrangler is hurt by it, but he won't show it. He's patient, gentle. A lot more insightful than people realise. He's spent years taming horses. He knows it's only a matter of time before you give in and accept his touch. He can wait.

(Btw, I don't think he'll actually end up being the guy you hate the most. If anything, he's the one in danger of your favour).

As for the boy, well, you feel pity more than anything else. Even when he's holding you down and eating you out, all you can think is that he never would have ended up like this if it weren't for the others. You don't blame him. You don't hate him. You just hope that one day he'll be free of this life.

I realise I didn't actually give the last guy a proper title, but he's actually the second in command. He also doesn't take it well.

Logically, he knows that you have the most reason to hate him. He's the one who planned this, he's the one who chose you. All your pain can be blamed on him.

He knows. He understands. But that doesn't stop him from hating it. He's the one who wants your love the most, he's the one who's longed for you the longest. It's so awful to finally have you and you won't even look at him. You hiss and fight and snarl when he takes you, even though he knows the others haven't had as much trouble.

His solution is also to just double down, but in a different way to the gunslingers. Instead of just getting angry, he'll try everything he can to be gentle. To win your forgiveness. He'll be so sweet when he fucks you, so slow and loving, even though he desperately wants to go faster. He'll kiss you every time he sees you, he'll hold you down and focus entirely on your pleasure, he'll bring you wildflowers and cook your favourite foods. He doesn't care how long it takes - he'll crawl on his knees for years if it means you'll forgive him. He'll do anything, anything at all. Please just look at me little dove, qīn’ài de, please.

He'll do anything in the world to win your forgiveness. Anything but let you go.

[grimestime27]

Marry Me

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Warnings: Mostly fluff

Set Pre Whisperers. 

I think I made Daryl a little OOC but he definitely is becoming more soft as seasons continue on. ❤️

Rick was missing, presumably dead. Michonne was broken. Daryl was a shell of himself. Everything was wrong. The group was split again. You and Daryl had decided to stay in Alexandria, but Ezekiel and Carol had offered you all a place at the Kingdom. Everyday, Daryl had went to look for any sign of Rick—living or dead. With no luck, he returned every night to let Michonne know nothing had changed.

Part of Michonne was relieved—knowing Daryl hadn’t found a body or a walker of her “husband”.  It was hard watching her everyday with Judith, knowing Rick wouldn’t come home to see her or his daughter again. Carol and Ezekiel had gotten married with a brief ceremony in the Kingdom, Father Gabriel officiating. It was bittersweet, Michonne leaving halfway through the ceremony. 

You knew why—it made her think of what she had lost. Carol had asked you and Daryl to be part of the ceremony. Daryl smiled at you from behind Ezekiel and you wondered for a moment if you all could ever have a future like this. It seemed very unlikely. Carol suggested you all stay the night in the Kingdom before returning to Alexandria. Somewhat reluctantly, you both agreed for the sake of she and Ezekiel. 

They gave you a private room. Daryl locked the door softly as you began stripping your clothes off and leaving you only in your bra and panties. 

“It was a nice ceremony.”, you began.

Daryl turned around quickly, eyeing you up and down.

You knew just how to get to the archer’s heart. 

“Yeah.”, he replied. “I never thought she’d fall in love with anyone.”

You smirked softly. “We all are full of surprises.”

Daryl smiled softly before coming over and taking you in his arms. He smelled of his own musk and wilderness, but you didn’t mind. It felt safe—it was home. He kissed the top of your head, taking in the embrace. There were times he wasn’t sure if he would ever get this again. Life was too short. And Daryl knew it.

“Yeah….”, Daryl began and it seemed like he had something else on his mind. 

You pulled back softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Just thinkin’.”

“About?”

“Us.”

Your face crinkled in confusion. “What about us?”

Daryl sighed. Words had never came easy to him. As a child, he wasn’t properly taught how to communicate and show his emotions. His dad highly discouraged it, beating him and Merle if they cried or showed any sliver of emotion. Their father had taught them that it wasn’t manly to show emotions. Men were meant to be strong and show no weakness. 

He was trying to break the cycle. You had taught him he could be vulnerable with you. You were his safe space.

“Daryl?”, you brought him out of his deep thought.

“Sorry,”, he sighed. “Just this whole thing with Carol and Ezekiel has me thinkin’…..”

You eyed him, encouraging him to continue. 

“Could we have somethin’ like that?”

“Like being married?”

Daryl sighed softly. “Yeah. I mean if you think ’s not for us—”

You interrupted him. “I think we could.”

Daryl’s eyes softly looked into yours. “Would ya…want to marry me? Become Mrs. Dixon?”

“Are you officially asking me to marry you?”

Daryl smiled softly before letting you go of you and digging in his pocket, pulling out a ring. “Yeah, Carol helped me find this.”

“Daryl…..”

“Will ya marry me and be Mrs. Dixon?”

He got down on one knee, something he never thought he would ever do. But things change.

“Yes, Daryl. A thousand times, yes.”, you began smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, happy tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Daryl slid the ring on your finger nervously, getting off his knee and taking you in a tight embrace before you both shared a kiss. You both pulled away, looking into each other’s eyes before kissing again. 

“Well, I guess we need to talk to Father Gabriel to officiate another wedding.”, you smirked as you both broke the kiss.

“Guess so. How about we celebrate Mrs. Dixon?”, he smirked as he swooped you up in his arms, causing you to giggle as he carried you to the bed.

[kuravix-art]

I find it so funny how Lu Guang has never expressed interest in peoples looks. Yet his best friend in the whole wide world who knows him better than anyone else is like "Lu Guang my fellow hot blooded male! We checking out hotties today? Men just can't resist beautiful women! Guys gotta appreciate hunky men! Loving beauty is manly spirit, am I right my thirsty brother-in-arms?"