#A MESS

[ghostboneswrites2]

NEW MASTERLIST HERE

Masterlist + About

Other blogs:

Shit posting - @ghostshitposts

Non fanfiction TWD content - @crxss-bxw

discord server for TWD fanfic/fan art

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚DNI & Requests˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You can call me Ghost! Old blog: ghostboneswrites

Early 20s // She/Her

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Taglist ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ One-Shots ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Reader Requests ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ My Reading List ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Daryl Prompts˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Mood Boards ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Coming Soon ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Dividers from @sister-lucifer

obsession - series masterlist

A Mess - Series Masterlist

A Mess - Volume 2 - Series Masterlist

Doe Eyes Series (Daryl x Reader)

Part 1: Doe Eyes (chapter list) [TEASERS]

Part 2: My Own Two Hands (chapter list)

Part 3: A New World (chapter list)

Head Canons

Daryl x Witch Reader

Early TWD Daryl vs Later Seasons Daryl

Challenges

Seductive Summer - (in voting) [entry masterlist]… [polls]

Halloween Horror - (ongoing)

[6ronze]

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋!𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐔 thoughts..

warning(s) : just smth short w sassy sanzu. you can imagine platinum/white or pink haired sanzu here it doesn’t matter. model!au so no deaths or wtvr. he’s a fucking jerk. model!fem!reader. nsfw. mdni. reader smokes. intoxicated pussy eating. clothed eating out. sanzu having a whole plan to fuck you sloppy so you keep coming back for more so maybe a bit toxic if you squint. wc is 1.5k

MODEL!SANZU who was a male model you were made to work with last minute. You couldn’t even refuse or take a second to at least search up his name to see if he was someone you could work with—your manager decided that for you instead.

On the night of the fashion show, you met with pink haired man backstage, briefly introduced to one another by his manager since yours was busy instructing the girls who had their makeup done to change into the clothes assigned to them.

Amidst the busy, cramped space you guys were in, it seemed like the world around seemed to stop when his uninterested eyes finally met yours, the pretty, unique scars on each corners of his lips curling up to an almost mocking smirk. You hated that look on his face, hated him right off the bat. And you also hated how easily his face gave you butterflies.

“You better keep up. ‘m not slowing down if you fall off the runway,” his velvety voice laced with arrogant teasing reaching yours ears like nails on a chalk board, your perfectly touched up face contorting ever so slightly at him. But you didn’t turn to him, refusing to have any sort of connection with your one-night partner.

Lights dimmed, curtains slid open, music cued—you two opened the show. It was a quick-paced walk, not much pressure since you’ve been opening and closing fashion shows for a few years—but for some fucked up reason, you felt the nerves in your prickle your skin. He walked in sync with you, though it was more like he was leading the whole fucking walk with how inconsiderate he was being, walking like you didn’t even exist beside him.

Once you returned backstage, waiting for the rest of the models to walk the runway so you could join the closing walk, you felt awfully peeved. Trying to find out the cause, you turned your head to the first suspect, MODEL!SANZU.

He felt your glare on him but simply chose to ignore you, knowing it’ll probably piss you off more. A scoff left his lips when it was proven true with how you clicked your tongue at him.

“What? Not like it’s your first time walking with your tits out,” he snickered, standing still as a makeup artist touched up his face and dabbed the sweat from his pale skin. “Unless, I made you nervous,” he added after a short period of silence, mesmerising turquoise eyes glancing your way to meet your glare, brows raised with an amused sneer that told you he had no intentions to stop provoking you.

What made it all the worse for you, was that you were liking his attention, as condescending as he might be. Plus, everything about him made you want to stare at him for as long as you could. From his silky long hair, to his lean yet muscular build, and not to mention the scars on the edge of his lips. He was a work of art, ruined in the best way possible.

The night came to an end, finally. It was a few minutes past midnight after the show. While all the bigshots and guests were at the after-party of the event, you models were taking smoke breaks out the backdoor of the building with nothing but black robes or maybe a faux fur coat like the one you were wearing right now.

“Didn’t think you were a smoker. Such a big girl now, aren’t ya?” You heard a familiar voice call out to you from behind, yours lips pursing to a thin straight line with the light smudges of eyeshadow sharpening your already narrowed eyes that glanced at him.

Flick, “not gonna join the party? Some millionaire’s you could sleep with there,” he muttered with a cigarette between his lips as he directed the flame of his lighter below the edge of it.

“Money without good dick doesn’t turn me on,” you huffed, trail of smoke leaving your lips along with your sigh. You turned your head to look at him, expecting some kind of remark to your response—but all you saw was some shitty grin on his face, eyes looking you up and down without an ounce of subtly. Your hand moved to pull your coat tighter over your body as if you were already naked underneath, save for your panties and lace stockings.

“Oh, please. Trynna hide yourself as if I didn’t already see the shape of yours tits and ass. They were quite the view though, can’t lie,” he teased with an initial roll of his eyes, inhaling the cigarette then releasing the smoke.

MODEL!SANZU couldn’t help the twisted pleasure he felt from the sight of your stunning features contorting to a mask of disgust, or even a nasty glare. He liked it even better when you muttered some nasty comment telling him to fuck off, only to see you not lift a finger to make him really go away. You were feisty, knowing how to keep him on his toes while simultaneously pulling him close.

“Come over. Just for the night,” he blurted out, sounding more decisive than he truly was. He punched himself in his mind for suddenly inviting you over, annoyed at himself in fear of going too fast. But he kept a straight face on the outside—a skill he gained from his modelling work.

Your eyes flicked your eyes over to him again, removing the cigarette from your lips and keeping it held between your index and middle finger. It didn’t take you long to ponder for an answer. And he didn’t seem to question you much either. All that happened was a quick nod from you and a brief trip back inside to grab your bag before heading out again to get in his car.

In a blink of an eye, you were in his apartment—a messy space with essential furniture, his taste in colour and interior design something you almost admired. He didn’t bother opening the lights, letting the city lights from outside illuminate the room from the big windows.

Minutes passed in his apartment, red wine served to you in a glass and cigarettes shared and passed. The conversations between you two were somewhat heavy yet filled with banter, the atmosphere starting to get intoxicating the closer and bolder you leaned into him, legs over his lap, giving him a sight of your clothes pussy if he so wished to peek. And being the opportunist he was, he did. Stared at your figure appreciatively even.

Soon enough, hands began to wander and clothes were stripped. It didn’t take long for him to lift your legs of his lap and hang them over his shoulders instead, shifting on the couch to position himself between your legs, leaning down to give half-hearted swipes of his tongue over your dampening folds. His eyes seemed glazed over, as if he was intoxicated, which he was.

You leaned back against the armrest of the plush dark velvet couch, fur coat slipping off your body to reveal your tits, stomach lazily skimmed over by his hand. He felt you squirm from his licks and it almost made him chuckle, hand on your belly sliding over to grip your hip instead. He buried his face further into the apex of your legs, his tongue flicking up and down your clothed pussy with more effort than before, parting your thighs more so he could delve past your folds and reach your clit.

When he finally found your pulsing buds, you felt a subtle jolt wash over your body, a soft moan leaving your tired lips before sipping a hand down to his head, threading your fingers through his locks and tugging on them weakly at first, matching the rhythm of his tongue that soon picked up the pace.

He was getting greedier in seconds, moving his tongue faster up and down your clit, probing your aching slit that he could barely reach due to the fabric that stopped him. As much as the lace annoyed him, he didn’t want to let you have the full experience of his capabilities, yet. He wanted you needy and curious the next morning, he wanted you coming back for more—he didn’t want you to leave.

Your fingers tangled in his hair only tightened with every passing moment, your legs quivering as he brought closer and closer to that sweet release you craved. His saliva made it better, sloppier, wetter. The lewd suckled he made desperately on your bundle on nerves and on your puffy folds made you whine pathetically, eyes closed shut and head straining to brace yourself for the orgasm he gracefully gave you. You gathered a fistful of his hair, pulling onto him to shove him deeper, riding his mouth with every buck of your hips without care if he breathed or not. But you didn’t worry much about him either, since his hands that clawed the fat of your ass and thighs told you he probably enjoyed it as much as you did.

[leahthedreamer]

This has to be the most egregious miscasting of the century

[awkward-sultana]

"Don't blame anyone but yourself, Suleiman. You created Hürrem and Ibrahim both."

[cleoke]

motivation maybe

[blossoms-phan]

talking about twitter discourse.. did you see people getting mad at the person who asked phil to sign the photocard of dans ass???? twitter phandom is a MESS

oh my god no???? you can’t even make that up what the actual fuck 😭😭 i can’t even imagine being mad at that like that is obviously something that was going to happen and it’s funny as fuck do they really think THATS crossing a line?? in 2024?? i can’ttttt

[devisopod]

something, something, I can fix him

[hannahssimblr]

I’m on my bed, fully clothed, and I cannot remember how I got here. I don’t know if I’m sitting up or lying down, or what is wall and what is ceiling. When I try to turn to my side, the room twists like a funhouse around me, the bed tilting like it's intent to slide me right off it. Am I alone? I think so.

That's my phone, the bright square of light. It lays on the sheets beside my face, and I grab it. Her name is right there. It's intuitive, too easy to find. 

It rings three, four times, and she picks up. “Jude?” She's sleepy. I woke her. 

“I’m sorry Michelle,” I slur, and I mean to be sorry for disturbing her, but she seems to assume that I’m apologising for much more than that.  

She sighs, “I know you are, and I’m sorry too.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. Are you drunk?”

“Uh huh.” I should likely be sorry for that too. 

“Where are you? Why are you drunk dialling me?” She doesn’t seem annoyed with me, concerned, hopeful, maybe, so I tell her the truth, “I miss you.”

I assume maybe I’ve passed out or somehow hallucinated this entire exchange because she's not responding, but then she sucks in a lungful of air and her voice trembles, “I miss you too, I wish you were here right now.”

“No, I was a bad boyfriend.”

“You weren’t.”

“I was the worst.”

“Not always.”

“...It's hard being on my own.”

“Yeah, for me too. Every single day has been horrible.”

I feel the kind of crushing, exaggerated sadness that I only ever do when I’ve had too much to drink, like I’m tumbling into a pit of despair so deep that the sun will never warm my face again. I can't think of a good reason why I have done this. “Sometimes I don’t want to go to Berlin,” I tell her hoarsely.

“Yeah,” she says, then hesitating like she wants to choose her words carefully, “You know that you don’t have to go, though.”

“I dunno.”

“You could stay in Dublin if you wanted to, It’s not too late. If the thought of leaving makes you too sad.”

That sounds deeply depressing, but being on my own is depressing too, and then I’m so frustrated that I fear I will start crying or something, “I can’t think.”

“You’re just drunk, but I think you’re saying this because it’s what you really mean.”

“Maybe.”

“I love you,” she says, and I hear her sitting up in bed, struck with urgency, “I haven't stopped feeling the same way about you, I still love you, and I want you to stay, if you're even considering it at all then that means-”

“Alright,” A group of guys pass by on the road outside, boisterously chanting some tuneless song and I’m conscious that I, or whoever brought me in here, never closed the curtains. I don't want other men to see me like this, and yet I'm unable to move.

“‘Alright’, as in, you’ll stay?” She says hopefully. 

“No, like, that I heard you.”

“I think we’re supposed to be together.” 

I wonder if she really believes that. Do I believe that? Maybe. “Mm. Maybe I’ll stay,” Sleep pulls at my eyes, which now rest unfocussed on a shimmery patch of sand outside the window. In the distance the waves roar against the shore, a lullaby. Sleep encroaches the corners of my vision and begins to suck me under. 

“Please,” she says, really crying now, “I don’t want to be on my own. I’ve been imagining you finding someone else and falling in love with them and it makes me feel sick.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

A sniffle, “No?”

“No, I don’t ever think about other people, just you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Never ever ever. You're my girl.”

She sobs gently.

“Shell, I think I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not, you just made a selfish decision. You can still fix it and make it okay.”

My eyes are too heavy and the world is too weird and dizzy looking to keep them open, “Will you forgive me?” I manage with the last of my energy, but I’m too sleepy to listen to her answer. I pass out in three seconds, the phone warm in my palm, the speakers buzzing gently with the sound of her voice.

In the blinding light of the morning, though my head pounds and every colour and pattern is an assault on my senses, before doing another thing, I grab my phone from my pillow to see new messages from Michelle. I don't read any of them.

Hey.

I type.

I was really drunk. Disregard anything I said, I don't even remember what we talked about.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[songofsaraneth]

crawled out of my dragon age cave to attend my friends greco-roman themed party! all the food was based off of period recipes, though some had modern adjustments (ricotta in place of… whatever soft cheese they had back then for bread, and gluten free flour to accommodate celiac friend). my dress is not actually period but i gave up taking the time to make something more accurate in favor of more hours in the aforementioned dragon age game.

[ghostboneswrites2]

A Mess - Volume 2

Part 3

Summary: How the Savior war and the loss of Rick affected your relationship with Daryl.

Warnings: profanity, loss, spoilers, character deaths, smut

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Chapter List

Note: man, one of the teasers I pulled from this chapter sparked some interest 😅

Well, @thesadcatt0, prepare for ANSWERS.

Anyways, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy ❤️

all banners credited on the masterlist!

        The lineup may have well been the worst day of your life. Two of your friends gone, and your lover taken against his will right in front of you. 

        The days without him we’re almost as bad as the day he was taken. You barely ate, never slept. You constantly found yourself crying in your shared bed, sniffing his pillow in place of him. It seemed so cruel to lose two loves in one lifetime.

        You had agreed to go to Hilltop with Rick and some others. You didn’t really know why you were going or what the plan was. You were just desperate to get out of Alexandria for a while. And, you wanted to see Maggie. You hadn’t seen her since the lineup, and she was pretty sick back then.

        You gave Maggie a big hug when you saw her, but before you could really catch up, the gates opened again and a loud engine echoed within the walls. Through the dust you could just barely make out Daryl and Jesus riding in on a motorcycle. 

        Daryl had barely stood up off the bike before you tackled him to the ground.

        “You’re okay.” You cried into the nape of his neck. He stiffened at the sudden human contact after days in isolation, but he relaxed as his arms snaked around you and held you tight against him. 

        “Yeah. I am.” He whispered into your hair, reminding not only you that he was okay but also himself. It had been a long few days at the Sanctuary, but now he knew things about them, and he had to report to Rick. They had to fight back. “C’mon.” He said softly as he tried to sit himself up off the ground. You rolled off him and stood up with him, gripping his hand tightly as he walked over to Rick to hug him. 

        That reunion was probably the highlight of the war with the Saviors. After that, there was nothing but more violence and death. You had begun to believe you were cursed. It seemed like you managed to end up with some kind of injury every time you had to fight. 

        When the final battle with the Saviors was over, you were left with a broken arm and a concussion. While your arm would take quite a while to heal, your head was fine the next day. The people that really needed healing were Maggie and Daryl. They both wanted Negan dead, and neither of them could let it go. But, Rick was unmoving on his decision to keep Negan alive as an example of what the communities all could have been. He was loyal to Carl’s vision, even at the detriment of those who had a score to settle with Negan.

        The inability to cope with Negan’s life being spared caused a bit of a rift between you and Daryl. You’d followed him to the Sanctuary for the short time he was in charge there. He hated being there, and he didn’t even really want you there in the first place. A lot of the Saviors were just people getting by, but a lot of them were also animals. He hated the way some of the men would check you out and lick their crusty lips when you walked past. It made him sick to his stomach to think what they’d do to you if they had a chance.

        The only time either of you felt any semblance of happiness at the Sanctuary was when you were both in bed.

        The frustrations of the work would often leave Daryl tense, and he’d take those pent up frustrations out on you in bed. The sex got a lot rougher in those days. 

        He’d turn you over so you were facing away from him. He felt too ashamed of himself to look at you, or let you see him. He was ashamed of the way he had failed people over time. He failed to get Beth out of that hospital, he failed Glenn when he threw that lunch that got him killed, he failed Maggie when he couldn’t avenge Glenn, he failed Rick every day he woke up to lead the people he hated, and he failed you every time you reached for his hand and he flinched away. 

        He’d grip the back of your neck with his thick hand. His cock would slam into you with so much force it knocked guttural sounds from within you. Your fingers would dig into the sheets when the bruising force of his thrusts got a little out of hand. 

        His mind would always be elsewhere. You’d rarely reach your climax, either of you. You’d both go to bed unsatisfied and you’d be sore the next day. Still, you were close to each other, intimate in privacy, and that was as good as it was going to get for the time being, so you both tried to enjoy it as much as you could. 

        When Daryl stepped down at the Sanctuary and Carol took over, you left with him to help work on the bridge. With the Saviors not always working well with others, things could get pretty hectic. Fights would break out, and often Daryl would be an aggressor. It was hot and sticky and bugs were everywhere all the time. The tent you shared was cramped and the nights were restless and uncomfortable. You couldn’t even have violent therapy sex without others listening in. There seemed to be no end to the suffering. Still, you remained by his side, no matter what.

        You stayed with him even when Rick blew up the bridge, when Daryl retired to the forest for six years. You’d often visit Hilltop or Alexandria to see old friends, but you stayed out there in that tent with him. Things were okay. He had become a bit softer, even in bed, but still he was withdrawn. You ate most of your meals in silence.

        Days dragged a lot of the time. When you got so bored you couldn’t stand it, you’d just take another trip to visit Maggie or Michonne and spend a few days away. He didn’t seem to mind, nor did he seem to worry about you taking care of yourself without him, so no harm done, you figured.

        One day you came home to see he had a dog. A dog, named Dog, apparently. 

        “Where’d you find him?” You asked as you patted and loved on the furry thing. 

        “Just out here.” He shrugged. He was holding something back, but you didn’t pry. You’d find out what it was soon enough, when you put the few tracking tips he taught you to good use, and tracked him on one of his hunts to find him at an old cabin. Another woman sat on the porch with him, long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder. 

        She noticed you as soon as you noticed her. She stood quickly, shotgun cocked and ready, barrel pointed right at you. You disregarded her completely, eyes trained on Daryl, who you didn’t think had any business at another woman’s house. 

        Dog stood pointedly at her side, growling and snarling at you. You realized he was her dog.

        Without a word, you just nodded, and stormed back to your camp. 

        By the time Daryl caught up, you were haphazardly throwing anything that belonged to you in your bag and rummaging around the campsite. 

        “(Y/N)—“

        “Don’t.” You cut him off.

        “It wasn’t—“

        “Wasn’t what?” You snapped, turning to face him, eyes blazing. “Wasn’t what it looked like? Yeah, right. Heard that one before.”

        Your body was trembling with rage. Considering the events that led to your relationship with him in the first place, you were infuriated that he’d be doing the same thing to you as your sleaze bag ex. We’re you eternally cursed to choose unfaithful men? 

        “No. It wasn’t.” He pleaded. You glanced down at Dog who sat idly by his side, tail wagging. 

        “Really? Cause I’ve never known a woman to loan anyone her dog without a good reason.” You glared. 

        “She didn’t. Dog found me. I followed him. That’s how I met her.”

        “Oh, cute. It’ll be a real nice story for your grandkids.” You rolled your eyes as you zipped up your bag and threw it over your shoulder. 

        “(Y/N) will ya just stop?!” 

        “No!” You shouted, throwing your hands up with frustration. “No, I won’t stop! If there’s anything you should know by now, it’s that I’m nobody’s fucking side piece.” 

        “It ain’t like that! If ya’d just stop and listen!”

        He pleaded with you as he stalked behind you, slapping stray limbs out of his face as he dodged through trees to keep up your pace. He found that he, too, was shaking. He felt so much anxiety in that moment — the possibility of losing you, especially over something so stupid — it was tearing him apart. He found himself blinking away tears as you tried to speed away from him. But, as he blinked them back, the pressure in his throat and chest just seemed to push more out. He was terrified. He couldn’t let you walk away. 

        When he caught up, he reached out and gripped your arm, pulling you back. You spun around and looked right through him, eyes wide and full of your own tears.

        “(Y/N), please. Just stop and listen.” He breathed. 

        “You have thirty seconds.” 

        “It wasn’t nothin’ like that, okay? I swear. Her dog follows me around. I bring ‘im home to her sometimes. We talk a little. That’s it.” He explained. 

        “Why don’t you just talk to me?” You asked quietly. You had a point. You two spent the majority of your time in silence, to the point where you’d leave him for days just to go have a real conversation with someone. You always came home, though, because you’d rather suffer in silence then be away for too long.

        “I just—“ He took a breath to collect his thoughts. “She don’t know about none of it, ya know? I just.. I don’t look at her and see somebody else I let down.”

        “Is that what you see when you look at me?”

        “No.” He shook his head. His gums were raw from how hard he’d been chewing at them. “I see somebody I’m afraid o’ lettin’ down.”

        “You never let anyone down, Daryl.” You said harshly. “And you’d know that if you’d fucking come talk to our family once in a while. I’m tired of telling them you’re doing fine, even if you won’t crawl out of your fucking hole and go see anyone.”

          “I just..” His lip quivered a little as he looked down at you. He hated that feeling. His fists bunched up at his sides, legs stiff, boots glued in place. He felt so awkward and vulnerable when he tried to be open with anyone. Especially you. All he wanted was to be someone you relied on, someone you felt safe with. Every time he opened up, he felt like anything but that. “I’m sorry.” 

        His voice cracked as he uttered the apology. You faltered a little at the sight of him, but you stood firm. 

        “Well, sorry ain’t gonna cut it this time. I need you to prove it. With actions.”

        “Like what?” He asked eagerly.

         “Like talking to me, for starters. Have a fucking conversation with me. Talk to me while we eat dinner. Touch me. Act like you want anything to do with me.” You spat. While his voice had softened the moment you gave him a chance to explain himself, your tongue was still sharp and jagged. All these things you had thought and felt and bottled up for six years were finally out on the table. 

        “Okay.” He nodded. “I will.”

        You glared at him. In all your experience with men, it had never been so easy to get the changes you’d asked for.

          “And…” You thought hard. “Sex. Like, good sex. I haven’t busted a nut in like six years.” 

        His lips curled a little. He’d almost forgotten how blunt you could be, given the chance to speak your mind. You crossed your arms.

        “Okay.” He nodded again. “So what first?”

        You cocked an eyebrow at that. It was actually a good question. 

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

        The bark of the tree scraped at your back as you gripped onto his shoulders. Lewd sounds filled the forest around you has he pumped his length in and out of you. You moaned and gasped, enjoying the familiarity of such intimate sex. It had been a long time since it felt that way. 

        Still, you weren’t reacting the way you used to, and he took notice. He wasn’t building you up the way he should have been by now.

        He slowed his pace down and broke the ongoing kiss to ask you; “What’s wrong?”

        “What? Nothing.” You panted impatiently, not understanding his sudden hesitance.

        “Somethin’s up.” He pressed.

        “I was starting to get close.” You insisted.

        “Nah ya weren’t.” He pointed out. “Hang on.”

         He hooked his hands under your thighs and dripped down to his knees, holding your legs up above his shoulders as his mouth found your mound. 

        You sucked in a breath of air at the sensation of his tongue tracing delicate circles around your clit. “Oh.” You breathed. “Shit.”

        He hummed against you, the gentle vibration making you twitch.

        Your nails dug into the tree behind you as you rocked against his mouth, relaxing your weight into the trunk as he held you up against it. 

        “Fuck.” You whined as your clit became more sensitive to his gentle laps. He sucked at your clit and fucked you with his tongue for a while, before he brought his attention back to your clit again and focused intensely on that sweet spot. 

        Soon your legs started to shake and your body began to buzz. The feeling washed over you quickly. A loud moan pushed past your lips as you came, writhing in his grip against the tree until you were twitching and jerking away from him. 

         With your orgasm finally out of the way, he was back on his feet, slapping into you, until his own high reached a climax and he was pumping you full of his cum. 

        When you recovered enough to pull your clothes back on and think a full, coherent thought, you realized something. 

        “Hey Daryl?” You asked as he buttoned up his jeans and adjusted his poncho.

        “Yeah?”

        “You didn’t pull out.” 

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix

[fanartist666]

Idk if passenger is really a thing on here or if Barry Sloane gets any love on this app BUT I literally adore that show already.

THIS POST WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR PASSENGER IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT!

Passenger. Oh my fucking GOD. I've watched it so many times. Eddie Wells has altered my brain chemistry. The tears I shed over that sweet, beautiful man.

The way he didn't even remember doing it, but thought he must have done because he was told he did, because everyone else was so fucking sure he'd done it, he believed them. He was branded evil, a monster, a freak, and probably everything else under the sun for something he didn't even remember doing. The guilt he felt. The staggering loneliness in those five years. It isn't discussed but I bet you any money his family didn't go and visit him once. In five fucking years. (I do understand why, I totally understand Joanne, Katie and Lily's motivations but that doesn't make it hurt Eddie any less)

Then he got out, and all he wanted was to be a part of his own family again. He wanted to be a husband and father again. He missed his little girls, he missed his wife. He missed his home.

And what did he find, what was his open and welcoming heart met with? Coldness, tension, conflict. His family is everything to him, and they didn't want anything to do with him. He wanted to bring Joanne a sandwich to her work, just to be nice, and she asked when he was leaving. Later his eldest daughter nearly threw boiling coffee in his face, his little girl, ready to cause him serious harm. A few days after Lily asks if she can tell him a secret.

He looked so delighted to be trusted with one. To be let back in just a little by the baby of his family, his darling baby girl. And she tells him "I wish you were dead." The TEARS I SHED when he looked up at her and visibly broke. (Barry Sloane is fucking slept on as an actor i swear to god, he is literally incredible). You could see something die in his eyes. The resolve when he stood up.

He went to end his life in the icy lake. 'This is what monsters deserve'. And who saved his life? But Jim, his 'victim'. Jim pulled him from a terrible death.

Because he was owed an answer.

Because Eddie was the beast that attacked him for no reason. Because Eddie was evil and did an evil thing, and Jim wanted to know why.

And then it turned out he was fucking innocent.

The whole time, HE DIDN'T FUCKING DO IT. 5 years in prison, in a 6x8 shoebox. For a crime he didn't even commit.

If you've read this far, do you get why he's changed my brain chemistry forever? He was pushed away, shunned, got himself beaten up, nearly killed himself over something he didn't fucking do.

Eddie was broken by the people of Chadder Vale. Even his own family. And none of it was his fault. 5 years stolen from him, his relationship with his family stolen from him, his reputation stolen from him, his life stolen from him.

AND THEN- AND FUCKING THEN- BARRY TWEETS THIS.

THE FUCK YOU MEAN HE HAS HIS DAUGHTER'S BIRTHDAYS ON HIS WRISTS. THE FUCK YOU MEAN HE HAS HIS WIFE'S NAME ON HIS LEFT FOREARM. THE LAYERS OF TRAGEDY IN ONE CHARACTER IN A SIX EPISODE SERIES ON ITVX. I AM A MESS OVER THIS INFORMATION.

HIS FAMILY IS HIS WORLD. CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW MUCH IT WOULD'VE HURT HIM WHEN AFTER ALL THAT TIME THEY REJECTED HIM??

I'm sobbing all over again. Don't even get me started on the 'it felt real, no?' When Joanne rejected his affection so harshly, because my boy was fucking devastated. (Again. I can empathise with her, I do get it, I do understand her point of view. Eddie has just messed my brain up and I adore him.)

Sincerely, I love him. Thank you Barry for him. I'm going to sob in my corner and think about giving Eddie a hug until there's a season 2.

I am never going to be the same.

[nanathott]

soooo hows ur drafts (on this acc ofc) lookin this week?

[awkward-sultana]

Magnificent Century + Parallels: Ibrahim Pasha & Hürrem Sultan

[rheasbrvtality]

AND LOOK WHO’S IN SUPPORT 😭

[hauntedtrait]

a day to remember

3/3