sometimes the fanfictions aren't enough, i genuinely need an old man in my bed...
One Nice Bug Per Day
occasionally subtle

★
Sade Olutola

ellievsbear
Misplaced Lens Cap
Keni
RMH

#extradirty
Cosmic Funnies
YOU ARE THE REASON
sheepfilms
DEAR READER
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Jules of Nature
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

if i look back, i am lost
todays bird

Janaina Medeiros

shark vs the universe

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seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
@mulberrymaggie
sometimes the fanfictions aren't enough, i genuinely need an old man in my bed...
Moving In
Summary: You move in with your boyfriend Daryl Dixon he is struggling to cope with the change.
Established Relationship You x Daryl Dixon | no y/n
Buckle up SO much Angst.
You and Daryl have been together for about 2 years now.
You met one night at a dive bar, your head spinning just enough to make you bold when you saw him. You thought he was hot—the kind of rugged that felt dangerous and steady all at once. You tried to make a move, but your words didn't come out quite as sharp as you wanted them to. You were leaning into his space; confidence blurred by a few too many drinks, rambling just to keep his attention.
But it was Daryl. He didn't make you feel small for it. He just leaned back, watching you with those quiet, observant eyes, letting you talk until you eventually found your footing. The conversation was mostly you until he mentioned, almost under his breath, that he knew how to strip an engine.
You seized it, inventing a fake mechanical issue just to keep him talking. For the first time that night, Daryl actually opened up, his voice low and gravelly as he walked you through what might be wrong. He ended up scrawling his number on a torn napkin, telling you to bring the car by the shop so he could take a look.
You took the number, knowing full well you didn't even own a car—you just knew you couldn't let him walk away. One blunt, "Hey, I lied about the car, I just wanted your number" text later, and Daryl Dixon was yours.
Daryl was shy at first, uncertain about almost every aspect of dating. You could tell he wasn't experienced, which you found endearing, so you never shied away from making the first move. He wanted to take it slow, and you loved the change of pace—no more swatting hands away or dealing with "I love you" too soon. It took two whole months, but when he finally kissed you, it was worth the wait.
It was that for a long time just small kisses and his hands resting chastely at your waist, his fingers as rigid as a board. But he eventually worked his way up to more—and thank God for that. He was so careful, acting as if he might break you or do the one wrong thing that would make you walk away.
At first, he wouldn't even touch you; he just wanted to watch. He wanted to learn every breath that made you jump, every sound that made you fall apart. It was like he was studying for a test he felt he had to ace before he earned the right to touch you. It was absolute torture. Of course, that didn’t stop you from touching him. You learned quickly, though, that he struggled with seeing you on your knees or with him in your mouth made him uneasy, no matter how many times you told him you were doing it because you liked it. Eventually, he started talking about the scars—who gave them to him and why. It broke your heart, but it brought you closer. You loved to lie there, tracing the lines on his back with your palm, trying to press away the old memories and replace them with something better.
After months of long talks, lazy nights, and rough hands finally exploring tender skin, he was ready for all of it. When you finally laid him down and he filled you up, it was perfect. It felt like you were two pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place. You started slow and deep, keeping your bodies as close as physically possible; your weight draped across his hips. As you moved at a lazy, grounding pace, you drew sounds from deep in his chest, leaning down to lick the tears off his neck. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before—so intense and so honest that you didn't even know sex could feel like that.
After the dam broke you couldn't keep your hand off each other it was good- no it was great. Daryl always was a quick learner. It really was everything you could have hoped for but it also made the reality of your separate lives a lot harder to swallow. You couldn't keep your hands off each other, yet you were constantly fighting against the clock.
It was a cycle of frustrating schedules and lack of time. You’d fall asleep in his arms only for him to be gone to work before you even opened your eyes in the morning. You found yourselves desperately sneaking in an hour or two in the middle of the day, trying to cram an entire relationship into the brief window before you had to head out for a twelve-hour shift.
Living out of a bag was getting old, too. You were tired of the back-and-forth, tired of buying doubles of every product, and tired of having to choose between a few minutes of sex or actually having a conversation. You just wanted more time with him.
One night, while getting extremely frustrated about not being able to find a shirt you brought over and simultaneously trying to shove clothing back into a bag for what felt like the hundredth time, you snapped. You let out a frustrated grunt. Daryl appears in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, giving you a quizzical look. You look up at him, blushing slightly, embarrassed at your fit of rage.
“Uh, sorry…just frustrated.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I’m done.” you huff “I’m done living out of this shit,” you say, kicking your bag.
Daryl just grunts. “Then don't"
You look up glaring at him not in the mood for games.
He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Use the dresser.” He then just turned on his heals and walked off. And that is how you now find yourself moving in with Daryl Dixon.
Moving in was actually easier than you expected, mostly because so many of your things had already carved out a permanent spot in his house. After a long afternoon of wrestling with the cramped dresser and closet—a feat you were convinced, you couldn't complete—you finally got the last of your things tucked away.
Daryl was out on the porch having a smoke with dog, and you walked out to grab him; your chest tight with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. “Hey” you said, catching his attention. “You gotta come see it actually all fit!” Daryl looks up, kills his cigaret and grunts out a disbelieving “no way”
He followed you back inside, Dog trailing at his heels. When you reached the bedroom, you swung the closet doors open to show off your work. Daryl went quiet, his eyes scanning the shelves. You thought he was relieved that the mess was gone but then you saw him linger at the bottom rack. Your shoes were lined up right next to his boots. Your shirts tucked between his heavy flannels and denim. Your heart breaks as you realize what this actually means for Daryl. Seeing your lives physically tangled together was proof of something he’d rarely had: a person who wasn’t just passing thought. You reached out and took his hand, needing him to feel that you were permanent, someone who was staying for good.
That night, you were completely wiped out from the move. You’d managed to fall asleep a solid hour before Daryl, but the sound of the door clicking shut woke you just enough to see him slip into the room. You watched through heavy lids as he started to change. God, he was hot—the way his back flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head made a bolt of something sharp and hot shoot through you. All desire for sleep vanished and was replaced by desire for something else. You sat up, eyes locked on him.
"Oh, sorry babe," he murmured, his voice low. "I was tryin' to be quiet."
"No, it’s okay," you said, your voice a little husky as you took him in. "I’m not that tired anyway."
You gave him a look that made your intentions crystal clear, but Daryl just blushed and looked away. "Naw, girl. You're tired. Had a long day. Need to rest."
He slipped into the bed, but he stayed as close to the edge as physically possible, putting a noticeable gap between your bodies. He was acting weird. You leaned over him, your hands finding the familiar planes of his chest while your mouth moved to the sensitive skin of his neck.
Before you could get anywhere, he grabbed your hand and firmly pulled it away. "No... you're tired. Go to bed."
He was acting like you’d never shared a bed before, let alone spent hours tangled together in it. You knew every inch of him, and he knew you, so the sudden distance felt cold. But it was late, and you didn't have the energy for a fight.
"Okay," you sighed, feeling a sting of rejection. "Yeah, we can stop."
You turned over, facing away from him, and tried to let sleep take over again.
You woke up the next morning and Daryl was already gone. Moving in together great, but it didn't change his grueling work schedule. You had taken a few days off, expecting the move to be a bigger project than it was, so you spent the day organizing the final few boxes before deciding to go all out for dinner because. After all you had the time and it felt good to have a kitchen to yourself.
When Daryl finally walked through the door, he was met with your grin. You’d dressed up a bit, nothing crazy just nicer than the sweats you were wearing all day. He stopped in his tracks, looking at the table and at you his expression a mix of shock and being on guard. Daryl didn't always handle surprises well.
Trying to ease the tension, you said, "I just thought, since it's my first official day moved in, and I had the time... I wanted to do something."
Your confidence started to wane as he just stared at the table. He picked up on it. He grabbed your hand and kissed it. "Smells good. Gotta wash the shop off me first”
You leaned into him, catching the scent of oil and cigarettes. “You want some help with that?” You offered with a tug at his belt loops.
“Naw, not this time," he said, stepping back. Normally, you wouldn't have thought twice about it—sometimes a guy just wants a five-minute shower in peace—but there was a stiffness in his shoulders that made you worry.
Dinner was good but the air between you felt heavy. You talked about the house and work, but he was holding back. It felt as awkward as those first few weeks of dating. Eventually, you ended up on the couch, you sitting on the floor between his legs while a movie played in the background. You couldn’t focus on the screen. You started to move, shifting back against him, running your hands up his shins. He placed his hands on your shoulder but instated of pulling you closer he just held you steady. It was getting too much and you needed him. You turned around kneeling up to find his mouth. The kiss was chaste, but you tried to deepen it, your hands wandering down to the buckle of his jeans. He caught your wrists. “Ya don't gotta”
You looked up at him, your head tilted a smile at your lips “I know I don’t, but I want to”
You tried to move your hands again, but he didn’t let go. “Not what I meant.”
You looked up at him with confusion on your face.
"You don't gotta do this." he repeated
still confused, you reply "I know Daryl. We have been over this. I want to."
He lets out a small grunt " No you its.... you don't gotta.... i'm not just talking about this" he nods down to you hands at his belt loop.
“Then what are you talking about?” You are genuinely confused now.
Daryl let out a sharp frustrated sigh looking everywhere but you. “Look... you know this.” You look up at him, confused. “Girl, you don’t gotta make me fancy dinner or feel like you gotta suck me off or...or have my damn babies just cause we’re sharing a roof.” He was getting more worked up now “I didn’t ask you to move in so you could do that or pay me back for the space by putting out. I’m not like him, okay? You don't owe me nothing.”
That flash of anger in his eyes caught you off guard. You’d seen him rough, and you’d seen him quiet, but you’d never seen him get this defensive over something that was supposed to be good. You stood up staring down at him and snapped “I know I don’t owe you anything, but I didn't move in to just be your roommate,”
You didn’t leave any room for an argument; and didn't want sit in this rejection any longer. So you walked to the bedroom, leaving the door cracked open just in case he had the nerve to follow.
Daryl didn’t
You flopped down on the bed, your mind racing. You had literally been living together for less than forty-eight hours and you were already fighting. It was infuriating. You loved this man to death, but God, he was a brick wall when he was scared. Tears of frustration welled in your eyes, and you hurried into the shower, desperate to have your meltdown in peace where the sound of the water could drown you out.
Daryl slept on the couch that night. Then he did for three more.
You two had never been phsically closer. Living under the same roof using the same shower and closet, but you have never felt more distant. Daryl was a ghost, disappearing before the sun was even up and staying at the shop long after you eaten dinner and went to bed. You tried to reach out asking him dinner plan halfway thought your shift only to be met with some lame excuses about late deliveries or a deadline.
On the fourth night You got a text from him saying that he was going straight to Ricks after work. You weren't gonna let that slide; you were not going to let him get anymore distance. You planted yourself on the couch watching shitty T.V to stay awake. It was around 2am when you heard his bike pull into the driveway.
Daryl was surprised when he saw you and the dog sprawled out on the couch. “Oh hey….sorry I thought you'd be asleep by now.” avoiding eye contact as he took off his boots with a loud thud. “I would like to be,” you reply flatly, your patience already dangerously thin. His eyes find yours now silver and thin scanning your face for what's wrong, you were mad but shit you didn't mean to scare him
“Everything alright?”
He started walking over to you, scanning your body looking for anything wrong shoving dog off the couch so he could get closer to you.
You let out a deep breath “yes, Daryl. I'm fine” he sits down and looks at you, not quite believing you. You look down at your hands, your voice dropping an octave and becoming more sheepish “but…… are we fine?”
You glance up, stealing a look at the confusion, flooding his face. Then you could see his defensive shield come up. He mumbled "I don't know, are we?” You grab his hand, trying to get him to open up.
“Daryl, why do you think I wanted to move in”
Daryl grunts “Dunno” you squeeze his hands “ok well try and think” you say flatly.
He grunts again “ I 'know you like dog, your rent was way too high for what ya’ living in…” You cut him off, bring your hand to his cheek making him look at you “no…. Daryl I moved in because I love you. I want to spend time with you. I want to be with you.” Daryl holds eye contact for a moment before looking down and shaking his head like he can’t believe it. You were getting more frustrated now you raised your voice
“Goddanmit Daryl what will it take for you to feel like you deserve something good for once!”
He looks up at you, shocked, but you're sudden change of tone. Frustration and embarrassment flood your body. You look down and mumble “it's not fair. I feel like shit…. Like I'm not good enough.” you sniffle tears of frustration threatening to break thought.
He lets out a frustrated sigh trying to grab your hand and pull you away “look I know it's hard but I'm not going anywhere” he catches your eye “ok?”
“No.” You say firmly “No, it's not ok Daryl. ,it's not ok that you just get all weird and avoid me. Look I know that this is hard for you, but this is not fair Daryl you barley even talk to me! Your are gone all the time, not touching me its.. Its just....” Your tone drops slightly a different sort of tears threatening “I just feels like you don’t even want this”
Daryl doesn't waste a second he grabs your head and bring it into and embrace emotion breaking thought is usually gravel voice. He mumbles “I'm so sorry, you were right its isn't fair. I do want this.... I wanted this so much I didn't wanna screw it up.” he takes in a shaky breath “just please don't leave”
Your heart breaks.
You pull away from him tears in your eyes “I'm not gonna leave” you said through tears, You felt the tension bleed out of him as you tucked your head under his chin. "No more avoiding me?" You murmured against his shirt.
"No more avoidin'," he promised and brought you closer. You stay there for a long minute before he leaned back, looking at the TV screen where some infomercial was playing. He gave a short, huffed laugh. "You really stayed up watchin' this crap for me?"
"Every boring minute of it."
He shook his head, whistling low for Dog. As the three of you made your way to the bedroom, the house finally felt less like a place where you were keeping your stuff and more like a place where you lived. Together.
You wake up to Dog bounding onto the bed shortly followed by Daryl.
"C'mon, get outta here," he grunted, gently shoving the dog off the mattress. As Daryl approached, a smile grew on your face. This was exactly what you had been craving—no more distance, no more living out of a bag. Just you and him.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and murmured a low, "Mornin’," before planting a deep kiss on your mouth. It was the kind of kiss that gave you immediate flashbacks to the night before, leaving you breathless and wanting more. When he finally pulled away, you let out a small whine in protest, but he just chuckled, tossed a pillow your way, and headed for the kitchen.
You hopped in the shower and got ready, taking a second to admire the marks he’d left on your skin before getting dressed. When you finally walked into the kitchen, Daryl was leaning against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee.
He looked up at you, mumbling into the rim of his mug, "Looks... good."
You gave him a pointed look, a playful edge to your voice. "What does?"
Daryl went back to staring into his coffee, his ears tinging a soft red. "You."
"Really?" You walked closer, a grin spreading across your face.
"Yeah. You know... wearin' your own stuff here. Not my stuff... you know cause.... ah forget it."
You stepped into his space, wiggling between his arms and forcing him to open up for a hug. You looked up at him, your expression turning more serious as you tried to drive the point home. "Because I live here, Daryl. Because my clothes are in the same dresser as yours. Because I'm not going anywhere."
He looked down at you, a small, genuine smile finally tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah. I guess."
He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before setting his cup on the counter and wrapping you in his arms.
First Time
Hi guys! This is my first written work ever I am a huge twd fan and had some extra time off school so I wanted to give it a try! I would love any feedback or suggestions but please be nice this is my first time punned intended ;)
Summary: Daryl X Female Character, Daryl's time he lets her take the lead, smut ensues. 18+
Daryl’s breathing was shallow, his lungs feeling like they were full of cotton. He looked up at her, his eyes rimmed with red, glazed and desperate. “I don’t know what to do,” he choked out, the admission sounding like a confession of a crime. “I’ve never… I’ve never been with someone like you. I don’t know how to handle it.”
She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in until her lips brushed the shell of his ear, her voice a steady, grounding anchor. “It’s okay, baby. I’m gonna show you exactly what to do. I promise.”
She kissed him—a deep, wet, commanding kiss that tasted like she was claiming him. She pushed him back onto the bed, and Daryl went down hard, his massive frame feeling like lead. When he finally fumbled with the buttons of her top and peeled it away, his heart nearly stopped. He stared at her breasts, so round and heavy, the pale skin stretched tight over them. Her nipples were already dark and puckered, standing out like hard little stones.
“You want to taste them?” she whispered, her voice a low vibration.
Daryl’s head bobbed in a frantic, jerky nod, a tiny, high-pitched whine vibrating in his throat. She giggled, the sound light and silver, as she leaned over him, draping her heavy tits right into his face. Daryl lost it. He started slow, his tongue darting out to lick a long, wet path from the base of her breast up to the tip, tasting the salt and heat of her skin. She wanted more.
“Touch them… touch them, please,” she moaned, her head falling back.
His large, calloused hands came up, fisting into the soft, yielding flesh. He kneaded her like dough, his fingers sinking deep. Gaining a sudden surge of confidence from her whimpers, he began to swirl his tongue around her nipple, eventually catching the hard, sensitive peak between his teeth. He let out a primal, slurping sound—a wet, desperate noise as he sucked on her like a baby, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to swallow her whole.
After a long minute of him gorging on her, she sat back up, her chest heaving. “Did you like that?” she asked, her own hands moving to massage her breasts. They were flushed a deep, angry red from his rough attention, the skin glistening with his spit.
Daryl couldn't look away from the sight of her own fingers squeezing the reddened flesh. He let out a low, gravelly moan. “Yes… yes, please don't leave…. I want more”
“You can have more but first, I have to show you something,” she said. “I told you I was going to teach you.”
She stood up off the bed, her movements fluid and deliberate. She kicked her pants away, standing there completely naked in the dim light. Daryl let out a strangled groan and threw his arm over his eyes, his hips unintentionally bucking. He looked like he was in actual pain from the sight of her.
“No, baby. Look at me. Look at what you do to me.”
He built the courage to move his arm. She was standing there, touching herself—one hand squeezing her red, aching breast, the other disappearing into the dark, wet curls between her thighs. Daryl sat up, leaning on his elbows, his eyes glued to her fingers as they disappeared and reappeared, slick with her own heat. The room was filled with the rhythmic, squelching sound of her own pleasure.
After a minute she crawled back onto the bed until she was over him again, her tits hanging low, her core dripping. She took her wet fingers—soaked in her own slickness—and slid them into Daryl’s mouth. He moaned, a broken, submissive sound, and whimpered as he sucked them clean, his tongue swirling around her knuckles. She moaned along with him.
Once he was done cleaning her up she sat back, pulling her knees wide to the side so he could see every single detail. “Fuck, girl,” was all he could get out.
“Watch,” she commanded. She brought her hand, covered in his spit, back down to her clit. She started to work herself again, going in and out, her thumb circling that sensitive, swollen nub. She let out low, guttural moans of his name. “Daryl… oh fuck, Daryl… this would feel so much better if it was you. You’re so big… you’d stretch me out so good.”
Daryl was vibrating. His eyes flashed between her massaging her breast and the sight of her fingers working her soaking cunt.
“Fuck, Daryl, I’m so close! I want you so bad! I need you inside me!”
The quelling, wet sound of her grew louder as shook and came apart in front of him. Before he could think, he grabbed her hand and took it back into his mouth, sucking hard as she shuddered.
“You like how that tastes?” she gasped, looking down at him.
Daryl could only nod frantically, sucking on her fingers one by one.
“It’s all for you, baby. All for you.” She leaned over him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “ You make me so wet…. Baby you make me feel so good”
Daryl looked up at her, his face flushed “ I do?”
She giggles, kissing him softly on the lips “yes you do.”
Daryl is shaking his head like he just cant believe it
She wont let him get into his head this time she kisses him again “ I need you to know something”
“Touch myself thinking about you,” she admitted, grinding down slowly on his denim clad lap.
“Really?” Daryl whispered, like he couldn't believe a woman like her would even think of him when he wasn't there.
“Yes,” she breathed out, straddling him now, moving in slow, agonizing circles.
“Where?” Daryl gasped.
“Well…” she smiled, her eyes dark. “Everywhere. In the shower, on the couch, in my car… in this bed.”
He moaned, his head thumping back against the mattress as he struggled to find his breath. “What… what do you think about?”
“I think of you,” she whispered, her voice dropping into a low, . “I think about your hands all over me... about you tracing my tits before you sink your teeth in. I think about you taking me from behind, burying yourself in my cunt and hitting it so hard I can't even scream. I think about sliding your dick down my throat while you’re driving, making you white-knuckle the steering wheel while I take every inch of you. I think about using you like a toy, just taking what I need... or you throwing me on this bed and wrecking me until I can’t take any more, and then doing it anyway.”
Daryl let out a choked-off moan, his boxers already soaked through with a wet spot before she even got them off. She started with his jeans gasping when she was able to see his bulge better. When she finally pulled the fabric down, he was fully exposed—big, thick, and swollen, the head of his cock dark red and glistening with pre-cum.
She paused for a minute, her eyes going wide. He was large, uncut, and pulsing. She leaned down and lightly kissed the sensitive tip, and Daryl let out a high, pathetic whimper. Then, she took one long, slow lick from his base all the way to the top before popping him into her mouth.
Daryl bucked up hard, his fingers digging into the sheets. “Ah, fuck! I’m so sensitive, girl! You make me so sensitive!”
She let go of him with a wet pop and hovered her dripping core over him. “Are you ready, baby?”
He nodded, his eyes wild. She slowly took her time sinking onto him. Daryl’s eyes snapped shut; it was too much. He was too big, and she was so tight he felt like he was being squeezed through a vice. When she finally bottomed out, she let out a long, ragged moan.
“Open your eyes, baby. Look at me.”
He did, and she saw the tears filling his eyes, shimmering in the dark.
“Fuck, baby… you fill me up so good. You make me feel so good.” She grabbed his hand and guided it down to where they were joined, letting him feel how his thick skin was stretching her out, how tight and wet she was for him.
His eyes rushed to hers when he felt how much of him she was holding. “You feel like—you’re so wet. So wet for me?”
“Fuck, is that really all for me?” he whimpered.
“Yes. All for you.” She started to move—slowly, painfully slow—sliding all the way to his tip before sinking back down. Daryl lifted himself on his elbows, his eyes glued to the sight of them together.
“Yes,” he whimpered. “So stretched out… and wet… and red… does it hurt?”
She giggled, her hips starting to move in a faster rhythm. “You’re so big, Daryl… I’m just getting used to you first, okay?”
He nodded, watching as she picked up the pace. The room filled with the sound of flesh hitting flesh and the sloshing, wet noise of their joining. Her breasts bounced in his face, and Daryl turned into a whining, whimpering mess, his head tossing from side to side like a hurt puppy.
“Daryl… Daryl! You’re so big… stay with me!”
He felt the pressure building, his heart hammering in his throat. He felt her inner muscles begin to clamp down on him, pulsing in a frantic rhythm as she hit her peak.
“I’m gonna—I’m gonna—” Daryl’s voice broke into a sob.
“Do it! Give it to me, Daryl! All of it!”
She slammed down one last time, her body locking up in a violent climax. Daryl followed her instantly, his back arching off the bed as he let out a loud moan. He came so hard it felt like his soul was being ripped out, filling her deep and full with a heat that didn't seem to stop.
When he finally slumped back, he was sobbing. He was actually crying, the tears streaming down into his hair. She collapsed on his chest, her heart hammering against his, and when she pulled back, she saw him staring down at her lap. He saw his own cream leaking out of her, messy and white against her red, swollen skin.The sight of it finally broke him. A choked sob escaped his throat, and his chest began to heave with the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “I’m sorry,” he managed to whisper, the words trembling and thick. “I didn’t mean to be so…”
She didn’t laugh. Instead, she leaned down and kissed his salt-stained cheeks, gently brushing the tears away with her thumbs. “It’s okay, baby,” she murmured, her voice a soothing anchor. “It was perfect. Don’t you dare be sorry.”
She scooted back just enough for him to see, her eyes locking onto his. “Look at what you did to me. Look at how much of you I’m holding.”
She lowered her hands, tracing through the mess they’d made together with a slow, deliberate touch. He reached down, his fingers meeting hers as fresh tears blurred his vision. The sheer honesty of the moment was almost too much to bear.
Sensing his remaining tension, she pulled him back into her arms, tucking his head firmly under her chin. As the last of the tremors racked his body, he let out a jagged whimper and finally let go. She simply held him, stroking his hair in a steady rhythm until the crying ceased, leaving him with the quiet, overwhelming realization that he was finally wanted.