#i promise i’ll fill my queue soon.

[ninthprime]

gurbalence gsunday

[gilverrwrites]

Im back on my supernatural shit, can you please do TFW + Gabe and anyone else you wanna do reacting to finding out the reader had a dirty dream about them?

Author note: Me too Boo, me too. I added lucifer, just cause I wanted too. Hope you enjoy! I also switched things up with gifs for each instead of one image for everyone. Lemme know which one you guys prefer.

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: that it is enough to exist as you are.

Dean

You’ve never seen a bigger shit-eating grin in all your life; he looks like he hit the jackpot.

No matter how much or how little you tell him, he won’t stop making jokes or bragging how bad you want it.

Dean I need you t- “Yeah you do.” Stop it! “Bet you weren’t saying that in your dreams last night.” *Gesturing at something even remotely suggestive* “Hey hey hey, did we do that?”

He promises to stop if you give him the full run down.

And when you do, he’s like Christmas came early.

All wide eyes and dopy smiles, occasional blushing.

He’s got a million and one questions throughout, but the final and most is obviously: “You wanna go at the real thing?”

Sam

Immediate shuts down for like 5 minutes. His brain has to comprehend and then reboot.

He won’t joke or make fun of you, at least not in front of other people.

But as soon as you’re alone, he’s got questions, lots of detail-oriented questions.

He’s not outright asking what your dream was, just teasing you with meticulously detailed fantasies of his own posed as questions.

“Did I make you beg for it? Did you make me beg?” “Were you completely naked, stretched out underneath me? Were my hands around your throat?” “What did I say? Did I tell you I would ruin you? That you deserved it? Did you want me to?”

Castiel

Angels don’t dream. Primarily because they don’t sleep.

So, he’s not really sure what to make of this confession at first.

Queue the signature furrowed brow and head tilt.

“Why?” I don’t know, I didn’t do it on purpose! “That’s true. I suppose this is your mind’s subconscious way of informing you that you are sexually attracted to me."

Boy, he doesn’t beat around bushes.

He would need time to stew on it from there.

It could be hours, days, maybe weeks before he brings it up again.

“I am curious about your dream.” What dr- oh right. “I am flattered. Should you be willing, I would like to discuss this more. For example, which of us…”  

Gabriel

You can sense the raised brows and the satisfied smirk before he even does it.

“Reeeeeally?”

Gabe’s reaction is very similar to Deans, just like a Trickster in a candy store.

Only he’ll wait to get you alone before he starts bombarding you.

If you won’t tell him outright, he’ll keep guessing.

And every new guess is accompanied by a costume and/or scenery change.

“Maybe we filmed the newest instalment of casa erotica?” “No? Maybe you paid Dr Sexy a visit?” “Mile high club?” “No? Kinkier? You into a little BDSM?”

I’ll let you fill in the visual blanks. 😉

Lucifer

His reaction is a lot more subdued. 

That doesn’t make it any less dubious. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

He’ll ask earnestly enough to start out.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

When you refuse, he doesn’t push. Doesn’t joke, or tease.

But the smile he keeps giving you.

The way he watches you, totally engrossed but poised, is enough to drive you crazy.

When he finally asks again, later on, in that low, relaxed tone:

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me all about your dirty little fantasies?”

Temptation really is his game.

[stellar-skyy]

hihi! an iced english breakfast tea with father figure blade?

“iced english breakfast tea here, for... ah, who was it? Oh, of course! Blade!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: While on a trip, you receive a letter from a certain Stellaron Hunter. ii. CWS & NOTES: no warnings applicable. PLATONIC blade & gn!reader, brief silver wolf & reader, kafka & reader. father figure!blade. found family fluff. 0.5k words. iii. A/N: hi anon! this request was actually much further in the queue, but i finished it quickly so i thought i might as well post it now.

The letter is penned on bright white paper, covered in small creases that have been smoothed out. The writing on it is small, with some parts crossed out and rewritten, filling the entire page. In the corner is a small series of doodles in purple ink, crude drawings of the three Stellaron Hunters and you. The envelope is beside it with the wax seal broken, smelling faintly of spider lilies.

Inside, it reads:

[Name],

I hope this letter reaches you well, if it reaches you in the first place. I must admit I am skeptical of the effectiveness of the intergalactic postal system, but it isn’t as if there is another way to contact you, aside from tossing the letter into outer space and hoping it finds its way to the planet you are currently on.

I think this is the longest it’s been without seeing you since you were young. It is much too quiet without you around; Silver Wolf has attempted to fill the silence, but I hardly understand what she is talking about half of the time and I do not care to ask. When you return, you will have to inform me what ‘dps’ and ‘maxed out’ means, because I know asking her now will only give me a long-winded spiel about those video games she is obsessed with.

Despite you being gone several weeks now, it’s still been difficult to adjust to having one fewer member of the group. I have been turning the corner, expecting you to be there waiting for me, but I am constantly finding myself alone. Kafka tells me it’s the mother hen instincts, but she doesn’t know what she is talking about.

Silver Wolf has been asking about you non-stop, telling me she wants her Player Two back. She made me play with her for a bit, but according to her, I’m so terrible at the games that it isn’t even fun to beat me. I’m not sure what she means, she beats you all the time anyway, but when I told her that she just rolled her eyes.

Kafka misses you too, though she’s at least got enough emotional maturity to admit that out loud instead of sulking. When she found out I was writing this letter, she made me promise to tell you she can’t wait to see you again, and you’d better be taking care of yourself. I think she feels the same as I do, even as she teases me for it. Things just aren’t the same with one less person.

I know you’re wondering about me, but I’ll keep it short—I’m fine. My condition is no better than you last saw me, but it is no worse either. You don’t have to worry, and I mean that with honesty.

I trust you are using this well-deserved break to its fullest, taking in the sights and not causing any excess trouble. Elio doesn’t allow vacations very often—it’s a wonder he approved this one, with all the missions he’s sent us on lately—so make sure you take advantage of it. If you are in a tough situation, you only need to remember what Kafka and I have taught you: hit them fast and hard, and don’t leave any witnesses.

Be safe. I’ll see you soon.

Blade

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ���

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

i've built my dreams around you

Summary: You find out Natasha's never been to a Christmas market. Considering you work at one, you do what any good partner would do: make her go around with you.

Word Count: 1618

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Request: Can you write natasha and reader celebrating christmas and reader takes natasha to her first christmas market?

Warnings: None that I can think of!

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone :) Comment and reblogs are always appreciated.

»»————-　★　————-««

“You’ve never been to a Christmas market?”

“I’ve crashed a car through one before-”

“Natasha!”

“What? That doesn’t count?”

“You know full well that doesn’t count. You’re supposed to embrace the spirit of Christmas, not destroy it!”

After a slew of horrified looks targeted at her, Natasha finally decided to spare your neck ache by spinning you around to face her for the continuing conversation.

“I have a break at 2 pm tomorrow,” you told her, “come visit and I’ll take you around?”

A smile spread on your girlfriend’s face, filling you with warmth as she wrapped her arms around you and pulled herself closer, nodding against your lips. “Sounds perfect,” she whispered, punctuating it with a brief kiss. “I can't wait.”

Neither could you – a Christmas with your girlfriend would be a dream come true, and as you watched her leave, your mind ceaselessly imagined romantic cliches of the two of you together and all the stalls that she might love. So hopelessly enamoured by her, you hadn’t even noticed your mistake, watching her figure until it disappeared through the doorway. But when you turned back to your baking, the absent slice of your freshly made brownies spoke for itself.

“Natasha!” you yelled.

The Avenger returned dutifully, poking her head around the doorframe with both a knowing smugness on her face and the necessary evidence held between her teeth.

“You couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“They’re delicious love, I see why you always sell out.”

Seeing through her deflection, you continued undeterred, “That was deception.”

“Well, I’m a spy.” With that, Natasha disappeared once more. You shook your head as echoes of her footsteps running upstairs met your ears, then turned back to the counter – you’d need to cook far more now that you’d invited a brownie thief to your stall.

»»————-　★　————-««

For every second ticking towards your promised 2 pm, another coat-clad customer extended the queue; the ever-growing line comprised of people vying for both your attention and whichever brownie they had set their sights on. As much as the business’s success was nothing to complain about, all you wished to see was a glint of your girlfriend’s red hair or the saving grace of your friend coming to cover your shift.

13:56. They would be there soon.

In the meantime, you near-mindlessly served customers, fulfilling order after order while daydreaming of all the stalls you planned to take your girlfriend to see. Until-

“I think I’ll try the Oreo blondie”

- her voice broke through the chatter of the market, snapping you instantly out of your head. This wasn’t just another customer in front of you, but Natasha, wearing the Christmas jumper you’d gifted her years before, jeans, a green jacket, and a beanie still half-folded over her distinctive hair.

You scoffed – though without hiding the smile that came with it – and shook your head. “I don’t serve brownie thieves,” you told her seriously.

“What am I dating a baker for if not for the free food?” she hit back.

“I don’t know. My good looks? My charming personality?”

“Your humour is definitely up there.”

“Hey!” you said in an image of false offence, before waving her along with the tilt of your head. “Now you’re really not getting a brownie today. Get in here and stop holding up the queue, there’s still-” a check of your watch- “two minutes more ‘til the backup arrives.”

Natasha grinned and wasted no time jogging to the side of the stall, entering and wrapping her arms around you from behind. “I’m still working, love,” you half-heartedly reminded her, then turned to a customer, “What flavours would you like?”

“Just missed you is all,” Natasha muttered in your ear, “and I am excited for today.”

You glanced back every so often, but still focused on reducing the queue as best you could. “I’m glad you are, Natty, but maybe you need to go find your teammate so we can enjoy it at all.”

“No need,” another familiar voice said from the side of the stall, “Natasha’s teammate is here. Is that how you refer to me? I introduced you two.”

“It’s usually ‘friend’, Wanda. ‘Natasha’s teammate’ when you’re late.”

“By one minute!”

“Shameful. Does Natasha not teach you any punctuality in training?”

“I do.”; “She’s too busy knocking me to the floor.”

“Oh, that’s true too,” Natasha nodded, pulling herself away from you to greet her teammate properly.

“Now the two of you get out of here and enjoy the market before I hit you with a brownie,” Wanda scolded lightly, twirling her fingers to subtly lift an off-display tray of brownies in warning.

You didn’t need to be told twice, and Natasha was already out of there. “I really do owe you one, thanks for this Wands.”

“If you get Natasha to go easy on me in training, I’ll call us even.”

“Nobody can get her to do that-”

“Are you coming?” Natasha interrupted from outside the stall.

“-So I guess I’ll still owe you one.”

You caught Wanda’s smile and the beginning of an eye roll even as you turned to run away, and you thanked everything that you’d ended up with a friend like her. Natasha was in similarly high spirits when you met her outside, with a loving gaze that lingered on you while you took her hand and began to show her around. You told her to stop eventually since even you could see that she forsook the beautiful Christmas scenery surrounding her in favour of you.

“I can’t help it,” she told you, “Christmas is about the things you love, isn’t it?”

“You’re sweet.”

“It’s something in the air.”

“That’s just the churros.”

“Haha, very funny,” she deadpanned.

“They do make the air sweet, same as my stall, or the waffles! Come on, let me get you something, it’s part of the full experience,” you promised, fulfilling all the plans you’d made in your daydreams. Natasha nodded her agreement, but her eager smile quickly morphed to shock when you took her wrist and ran off, weaving through the crowds and taking her with you until you reached the desired stand.

You pulled her closer once you arrived as a means of apology, then struck up a conversation asking how her day had been until then. Her hand began to hover over her coat pocket as she spoke, alerting you to her wallet’s whereabouts – it had become almost tradition for the two of you to fight over payments, each trying to treat the other, but after promising to be her guide, you refused to lose the battle this time. So you laced your fingers with hers and held her arm stiffly to the side, pulling your own card out the moment the order was made. 

Natasha didn’t take it without resistance, struggling to free herself from your hold and even stating her intention to pay, but to no avail. You released her only once the payment had gone through, allowing her to take the churros from the seller.

“Thank you,” she muttered lowly, offering you a churro as she began to nibble on one of her own. The two of you strolled purposelessly through the crowds, side by side, and worked through the churros until Natasha held just an empty packet. After freeing her hand of the packet, Natasha’s first move was to take your hand in hers again – a move that caused you to recoil at the frigidity of her skin against yours. 

“You’re freezing.” You jumped into action – taking the gloves from your pocket to pull them over Natasha’s hands, then touching her cheeks and forehead to see they were cold too. With nothing else to wrap her in, you wordlessly led your girlfriend to the nearest stall and ordered a hot chocolate for both of you to warm up with. 

“There’s one more thing I want to do.”

“Is it the Ferris wheel?”

“Of course it’s the Ferris wheel.”

“Good,” Natasha said quietly, “we had the same idea then.”

You didn’t take her hand as you led her through the crowds this time – mainly because they were securely wrapped around her cup – but the two of you manoeuvred onwards to the rotating contraption. The sun had begun to set, and the queue had subsided enough that you were quickly led onto the ride and secured, marking the perfect end to the day. 

With a whir of machinery, the two of you began to rise, watching the shops and crowds you'd spent hours pushing through shrink into a model village.

“I had fun,” Natasha said suddenly.

“Did you like the stalls?”

“The stalls, the food, the lights… I see why you love it.”

“Yeah, so crash your car elsewhere next time.” 

She scoffed, but carried on, gazing down at the labyrinth of brightly lit cabins. “It's Christmas-y, but not enough for the full Christmas spirit.”

“What else-”

“It's the company that makes that,” she clarified, finally looking up at you and squeezing your free hand. “And I'm lucky enough to have the perfect companion.”

You'd reached the top by then, silence engulfed the two of you as the chatter of the crowd stilled with distance – up there, it was just you and her.

“You'll have me forever,” you promised. Your eyes drifted to where your hands met, surveying the left hand which – in just a couple more weeks – would no longer be without a ring. The token itself was entrusted to Yelena’s care until Christmas, until your plan could come to fruition.

“A lifetime of you and your baking,” Natasha mused, still unaware of how soon that dream may be, “sounds perfect.”

You smiled, shuffling close. “Merry Christmas, Natasha.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

»»————-　★　————-««

taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

[ravencoloredroses]

Safe Word

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Sometimes when Az comes home from a mission things can get out of control.

Word Count: 1,679

Warnings: *SMUT*, blood, bruising and cursing

A/N: It’s been a while since I posted and I’m so sorry about that. Life has been crazy lately, but now that things are back to normal (ish) I’ll be posting more regularly. I have a bunch of requests to catch up on so if you requested a while ago and I never posted it I’m sorry! It will be up soon I promise! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this short fic with Az! This is my first time writing smut…. so let me know what you think! <3

——————————————————————

I hear the front door open as I drain my bath water. He’s home. Rushing to meet him, I just grab my robe to put on. Coming down the stairs, I see him in the entryway taking off his shoes.

“Hey Az!” I greet and watch as his stiffened form relaxes at my words.

“Hi beautiful.” He says back, spinning around to face me. When our eyes meet it’s difficult not to notice the fire in his gaze. He walks over to me and I meet him halfway. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for a quick kiss.

Well, it was supposed to be a quick kiss, but Azriel had different plans. He pulls at the back of my head exposing my neck to him. He makes his way down my chin to my neck and down to my collarbone. I grab onto his hair and arch my body closer to him. He gives a deep moan and comes back to my lips. He grabs the back of my thighs as my queue to jump up. I cling onto him as he walks us up the stairs. My robe pools around my waist and he releases a moan as he notices how I’m dressed.

“I missed you so much, my love.” He says when we finally break for air.

���I missed you too.” I managed to get out. He smirks, pushing open our bedroom door and tossing me onto the bed. He looks at me with the gaze of a predator, and I’m more than happy to be his prey. I understand exactly what he needs from me. I knew from the moment I saw him at the door.

When Azriel has a bad day on a mission or in training he has multiple different ways to relieve his stress. Most days are just to cuddle up with a book or take a relaxing bath, but on rare occasions he needs to release his frustrations with sex. Today is one of those days.

He hovers over me pulling off my robe. As his scarred hands graze over my skin, I feel a wetness pooling at my core. I reach down and start to undo his belt buckle when he takes over for me. I watch as he flings his leathers onto the floor, never breaking eye contact. I note the obvious bulge in his boxers and pull him down into another searing kiss.

I move my hands down his torso and under his waistband, stroking him teasingly. He grabs my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist.

One second he’s standing up to remove his boxers, the next his mouth is back on my neck. I run my hands through his hair as he makes his way down to my chest, leaving marks that will definitely be there tomorrow.

His shadows creep up and bring my hands above my head pinning them there. He begins massaging one of my breasts and sucks on the other one. His unoccupied hand finds its way to my thighs, slowly circling around where I need him most. He runs his hands through my folds as his thumb plays with my clit. I arch my back off the bed and struggle to pull my hands free from his shadows, desperate to touch him.

He moves back up to kiss my lips, gives himself a few pumps, lines himself up and slams into me. Normally he allows me to adjust to his size, but tonight he just starts pounding. At first it was a bit of a shock, but after a few thrusts I realize I’m just along for the ride.

His pace never slows, if anything he picks up speed. The sound of slapping skin fills my ears and he moves his hands to my waist, holding me down firmly. He’s slamming into me so hard that I’m sliding up the bed towards the headboard. He pulls at my hips to bring me closer to the edge of the bed. His grasp on me only tightens as time goes on, turning my pleasure into pain.

I try to endure it for his sake. I know he needs this -needs me- right now and I can’t bring myself to stop it.

“Fuck.” He moans in my ear. “You feel so good.”

I kiss his shoulder as my response, but as tears fill my vision I know it’s getting to be too much.

I realize that I’m not wet anymore. Making this much, much worse. I can endure the pain from his hold on my hips, but every thrust feels like sandpaper scraping my insides.

He adjusts his grip on my waist and thrusts faster and harder. He’s getting close, and I tell myself if I can just stick it out for a little longer it will be okay.

The pain becomes too overwhelming and that has me do what I never thought I would need to do.

“RED!”

Azriel immediately stops his motions and looks at me stunned. “What’s wrong?!? Are you okay?!?” He asks looking frantic.

“I’ll be okay, I just need to stop. I’m sorry.” I sob, wiping away my tears.

“Do not apologize. Ever. Can I pull out?” He questions. I give him a small nod. He slowly pulls out of me and releases his hold on my waist. His shadows also release their hold on my wrists, giving my arms light kisses as they go back towards Az. He kneels before me and we both take note of the visible marks he left behind and the trail of blood seeping out of me.

“No. No no no no no.” He says mostly to himself, pulling at his hair. “Fuck. Oh my gods I’m such a fucking idiot. I’m so sorry dove, I- I don’t even know what happened.”

“Azzy, It’s oka-“

“Don’t. Do not tell me it’s okay.” He cuts me off, running off to the bathroom. As he gets up I notice his painfully hard cock. He was about to cum, and I ruined it. It looks so painful for him and I feel terrible for essentially blue balling my mate.

He returns with an entire first aid kit and a wet rag. He gently spreads my legs and begins wiping me clean. I can tell by his clenched jaw that he’s beating himself up in his head. I want to say something but nothing I could say will help this situation, so I remain quiet.

When he’s done cleaning the blood off of me, he rummages through the first aid kit looking for something. He pulls out a tube that I don’t recognize, meets my confused gaze and says, “I asked Madja for this when we first became mates. It helps to heal cuts on the inside, I can do it… if you're okay with that.” He looks at me with eyes filled with sorrow and I give him a small nod.

He sighs and twists the cap off the tube and squeezes some onto his fingers. He scoots closer to me and I spread my legs as far as I can for him. He clenches his jaw again and slowly pushes two fingers into me. I hold back my gasp as he moves them around to coat my walls. He pulls out and wipes them off on the rag.

He climbs back up on the bed and reaches over to pull me into his lap. I rest my head on his shoulder and grab his free hand to play with. Rocking me back and forth, he rubs a soothing hand down my spine.

After a while like this, he lifts me up and pulls back the covers of our bed. He lays me down and then climbs in next to me. I snuggle up into his chest and he puts his arms around me. “Az, it’s not your fault. We have a safe word for a reason. I should have used it sooner, so if anyone’s to blame it’s me.” I whisper and feel him stiffen underneath me.

“I’m your mate. The person you’re supposed to trust, the person who should never harm you. You’re the love of my life, I’ve waited centuries for you and I fucked that all up tonight. I know we have a safe word, but you should never have to use it with me. It’s my job to keep you safe, but I didn’t even keep you safe from myself.” He sobs.

I shoot up into a sitting position to look at him fully. Azriel does not cry, ever. Yet here he is, my mate, crying because he thinks he hurt me. I place my hands on either side of his face and look him dead in the eyes.

“Azriel. I love you so gods damned much. I do trust you, fully. After I said the safe word you immediately stopped. You stopped when you were about to orgasm. That shows me how selfless you are. Not all males would do that, but you did.” I kiss away his tears and continue.

“I never knew what it felt like to feel safe until I met you. You are the only person who puts me first and that means the world to me. I will never be able to repay you for all the times you’ve saved me. I love you Azriel and what happened here tonight doesn’t change that.”

He nods his head and I wipe the rest of his tears away then place a soft kiss on his forehead.

I slowly lay back down and pull him into my arms. This is my favorite way to sleep and I think it’s his too. Az nuzzles his head into my neck and I let my fingers play with his hair, lightly scratching his scalp like I know he loves. He places a kiss on my shoulder and flares out his wings to shield us from the world.

I’m drifting off to sleep as I hear a whisper so quiet I barely hear it.

“I love you too.”

[matildaanymore]

𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : bobby skeetz x fem!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : Your brother is Ryan Mcmahon, drummer of the upcoming band Inhaler. What happens when you sneak around with the Irish bassist…

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : cigarettes and alcohol (oasis).

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I was awoken to a knock at my bedroom door. Not long after the knock appeared my brother Ryan.

“Get up, we need to leave soon.”

“Do i have to come with you?”

“Yes. You promised me last week that you’d come to the show”

“That was last week. I’ve changed my mind”

“No. You’re coming”

And with that Ryan closed my door in annoyance which led me to groan knowing i had to stick to my word of leaving the house tonight.

It wasn’t long before i hopped in the shower getting ready for the day. Frank Ocean blasted through the speaker on the counter as i washed my hair. When all of a sudden i got a text message. I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around my body checking my phone to see who interrupted me.

Bobby - Bobert 🤘

You - Y/N🖕

Bobert 🤘

You coming to the gig tonite? x

Y/N 🖕

Unfortunately. I promised Ryan i’d come to this one x

Bobert 🤘

Um excuse me this isn’t an unfortunately moment. x

Y/N 🖕

It is when i’m gonna be stuck with 4 boys and one of them tries to convince others to play bird bingo for an hour. x

Bobert 🤘

I wonder who that could be cause it isn’t me. Maybe Josh? We should really have a word with him about that cause that’s out of order x

Y/N 🖕

Whatever helps you sleep at night babes x

Bobert 🤘

Babes? Okay Babes. Let’s have a talk Babes. x

Y/N 🖕

Bye. Gotta get ready see you soon. x

Bobert 🤘

See you soon babes x

I didn’t realise I was smiling at my phone until the last message. I’d say Bobby and I have a close relationship. I’ve known him for a while and i’ve always had a crush on him. I mean who couldn’t. He’s 6ft with a mullet and plays bass in a band. And also my brother’s bestfriend and bandmate but we all have a secrets don’t we. I walked into my bedroom and shut my phone throwing it onto my bed getting ready for the night ahead of me. I threw on a black midi dress that flowed in the wind at the bottom and paired with my fur jacket, black boots and black bag and topped it off with jewellery. I then started applying the finishing touches to my makeup before Ryan called up saying that we are leaving in 5. I opened my bag and threw in my packet of cigarettes, a small bottle of alcohol, charger, lip liner and lip stick and other necessities i’ll need for the night before quickly making my way downstairs.

liked by ryanmcmahon_15, elijahhewson and 1,300 others

y/nusername : dressing up > down

📷 : ryanmcmahon_15

ryanmcmahon_15 : finally got photo credits for once.

➥ y/nusername : be grateful

user : where is the jacket from?

➥ y/nusername : it’s thrifted x

bobbyskeetz : this jacket looks like a bird meaning you have to bird bingo.

➥ y/nusername : … can i not get a nice compliment without it including birds.

➥ bobbyskeetz : no sorry xxxxx

bobbyskeetz : 😫🖕

➥ y/nusername : no. damage is already done 💔

user : UR HOT.

➥ bobbyskeetz : thanks x

➥ y/nusername : fuck off.

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We arrived at the venue and entered through the back door. There were a group already queuing even though it was only 2pm. It was so crazy to me how people would spend their whole day waiting in a queue for a show that will only go on for a few hours (i am guilty of this). They all screamed when they saw Ryan enter the venue which i still need to get used to. We get led into the green room which was already filled with the other 3 irish lads.

It wasn’t long before Ryan announced our presence ‘Hey! We made it’

‘Hey guys!’ Eli stood up and started hugging the both of us followed Josh and Bobby.

Bobby’s hug lasted a little longer than i wanted it to but at the same time i could stay with him forever. He’s such an easy person to be around. You could either talk for hours upon hours about random ass shit. You could tell him about girl drama and he would make small comments like ‘She’s a Bitch’ or You could both sit in the same room together in comfortable silence. You’ve never gotten on with anyone so well in your life. It was relaxing to know that someone understood you in that way.

‘We have soundcheck in about 2 hours so if anyone’s up for a round of bird-‘

‘Bobby… Don’t even mention the words Bird or Bingo today please’ He just laughed at my comment sitting down on the velvet couch placed in the middle of the room. He patted the seat next to him inviting me to sit down beside him which is happily accepted. The other boys were talking about god knows what when suddenly Bobby leaned over and spoke so only I could hear ‘Are you looking forward for tonight… babes’ I lightly slapped his arm telling him to behave. ‘You know i really was up for it until i remembered you were in the band again. What happened to them finding a new bass player?’ ‘You should be grateful i’m stuck to bass, I was gonna be the lead’ ‘Now you say it i am grateful you’d do anything but sing.’

‘Hey guys are going to go get food you coming with?’ Josh stood up and asked the both of us

‘No we’re good’ I looked at Bobby because i was really hungry and wanted food but i knew if id asked ryan he’d get me something ‘I’ll stay here, Can you get me something Ryan?’ ‘Yeah course, be back in an hour’

And with that the other boys left and it was just Bobby and I. Earlier I mentioned how it was always a comfortable silence with Bobby however this silence felt different. It felt like there was something needed to be said or something needing to happen. And I feel like he sensed the same. He looked over at me opening his mouth like he was going to say something. That was until I looked over in his direction. He shut his mouth and looked the other way scratching the back of his neck. Strange.

We sat on our phones for about 5 minutes until I broke the silence.

‘Bird bingo?’ ‘I thought you’d never ask!’ I rolled my eyes but there was really nothing else to do.

Both of us sat either side of the small coffee table places on the floor as he set up the game. I sat opposite him waiting for him to finish. ‘Let’s make this game different’ He looked up and hummed in response confused. ‘Let’s do some forfeits, everytime one of us loose a round we do something the other person wants’ in reply he just smirked at me laughing a bit. ‘Don’t smirk at me Robert I’m winning’ ‘We’ll see’

With that the first round started. It started off with shots being taken to us telling eachother random secrets and doing a small Q&A. It didn’t take long for it to get more heated and serious. ‘Next one i win…’ he lent in a bit till i could feel his breath. ‘We kiss’. ‘Okay’ i just smiled not knowing what else to say in response. I really wanted to but Ryan would be so pissed off if he knew.

And he won that round. That’s how it all started a silly game of bird bingo. That night when no one else was around we couldn’t keep our hands off of eachother sharing kisses whenever we could and having small makeout sessions in secret places. The boys were performing on stage and Bobby couldn’t take his eyes off of me when all of a sudden ‘Who’s your money on (plastic house)’ started playing.

‘Who’s your money on Dublin?’ Eli announced to the crowd as they started yelling out names of the band. I looked over at Bobby and i saw him mouth to me ‘Who’s your money on??’ I yelled ‘BOBBY!’ which caused him to laugh and walk towards Ryan at the back who was playing the drums. I took my phone out and started recording them for a little bit of the ending since this was one of my favourite Inhaler songs. It wasn’t long until the show ended and i was making my way back towards the green room when all of a sudden i got pulled through a door outside by the tour buses. Bobby stood there with the same look on his face he’s had all night pulling out a cigarette lighting it and then holding it out to me. ‘I don’t want this to be a one night thing’ he said taking a puff and blowing it out making deep eye contact with me. ‘Neither’ I said taking the cigarette back into my lips this time he was holding it which led him to pull me against him as we smoked together. We both stood in silence until it was stumped out sharing a quick kiss which tasted nicotine before heading back inside before the fans started coming out or even one of the others.

liked by bobbyskeetz, graciebrns and 4,829 others

y/nusername : who the feck are inhaler? (and if anyone can tell me who this man is staring at me lmk so i can block him xx)

user : who are inhaler?

➥ y/nusername : idk. u tell me x

bobbyskeetz : that might be me? i’m not sure though. just a thought.

➥ y/nusername : yeah it doesn’t look like you x

user : damn 2 pics of bobby we are being fed.

➥ user : and im eating them all up

elijahhewson : the best band ever

➥ y/nusername : dream on.

graciebrns : my wife

➥ bobbyskeetz : back off shes mine.

➥ y/nusername : bobby.

➥ ryanmcmahon_15 : what.

➥ bobbyskeetz : oops.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Now here we are. Bobby and I secretly dating. Ever since that night we’ve been inseparable. Ryan has been questioning why i’ve wanted to come to the shows so much now recently or why i always want to be around him and boys but he couldn’t know. You recently moved into your own apartment in Dublin still close enough to Ryan but also further enough to feel like you have your own space. Bobby has been round all the time even sleeping over. We’ve had a few close calls but now it’s just our little secret.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Author : This one is a little bit better but still bad. Gimme prompts 🙏🙏 (with anyone, if ik who they r) - Matilda xx

[kteezy997]

He’s Out of My League: Part 2 //matt rife

You had done it.

You had tapped the Matt Rife on the shoulder. Here goes.

“Hey,” you smiled kindly, “I’m so sorry to bother you, it’s just that I saw you and I just wanted to say that I’m a big fan of yours.” you said, trying to speak quickly, while simultaneously trying not to fumble your words.

Matt smiled genuinely, “Thank you, and don’t be sorry. I’m glad you said ‘hey.’”

He spoke so sweetly to you and those damn eyes were so mesmerizing, like you could see directly into his soul.

“I should thank you. I mean, your comedy and vlogs and the TFIL/Overnight channel has really brought me a lot of joy and made me laugh so much when I really didn’t feel like laughing. Your content makes the dark times easier.” Now that you kinda poured your heart out, you wished that you hadn’t. He probably thought you were just a depressed little weirdo trying to come on to him.

But he was listening closely to every syllable that came out of your mouth.

“Wow, um what’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n, I’m so glad to hear all of that. That’s all I could ever hope for. It’s more than I could hope for. That’s why I do what I do. Were you at the show tonight?” He asked, picking up his drink from the counter and taking a sip.

“Oh, no, sadly. I waited in the queue online for a long time for tickets, but they sold out.” You said, disappointment laced into your tone.

Matt sighed, “Ugh, that sucks. I’m sorry. I wish you could have been there. You’ll get to see a show someday though, I promise I’ll be back soon.”

You smiled politely. But the way he was looking at you felt so intimate and his irises became a deeper shade of blue. “I can’t wait to see one of your shows.” You said, needing to fill the space with some words. “Thanks for you time, Matt. It was so nice to meet you.”

You felt kinda awkward and didn’t know what to do with yourself. Waving goodbye would have been odd, you figured. So you put your hand out and gently grazed his hand as you stepped away.

“Bye, y/n. I hope I see you again.” Matt said. You caught the tiny smirk on his lips before you walked away.

Later, you had joined your friends back on the dance floor. It was creeping into the early morning hours, but you didn’t care. Sure you were tired, but you were having fun laughing and dancing. You had told your friends that Matt Rife was there, and you would all take turns spotting him conspicuously in the crowd.

It must have been close to 2 a.m. when you and Matt’s eyes met and you locked gazes. You hadn’t looked him directly in the eyes since you left his side at the bar. He didn’t look away, he didn’t turn his head. He just kept looking at you, the corners of his perfect plump lips turning upwards.

You couldn’t explain it if you had to, the feeling you got as he was looking at from across the club. You were giddy and adrenaline swirled in your stomach. You looked on as Matt broke away for a second to chat with his friend. He laughed, and playfully shoved the person before glancing back over at you, the neon lights dancing over him like this was all a dream.

Part of you couldn’t let this go, the apparent gravitational pull between you and Matt. You began to contemplate going over to him, without even knowing what you would say or do. You knew the music was still booming, but you couldn’t hear it. There was only your blood pumping through your veins.

In the same moment, Matt was moving in your direction. Was he coming over to you? You were not the type of girl that guys crossed rooms for. It didn’t take that long for him to close in on you, and you couldn’t believe it was real.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart started thumping really hard. “What?”

He chuckled, “You wanna get outta here y/n?”

@gatoenlaciudad @meetmyothersouls @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace

[myfandomprompts]

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟒)

Synopsis: You are a French girl that had the opportunity to teach in Manchester, and you had been lucky enough to be granted a bed at the Bennett’s place. As Europe is on the brink of war, you start to worry for your family back at home, and you are surprisingly consoled by the one man of the house you would never have thought capable of landing you an ear. It’s not that you like Tom, is it?

Previous Part - Masterlist

Tags: angst, fluff

A/N: Sorry for my long absence, but until July I am swamped. I should be working instead of writing but here I am. There is work in the do, another Aemond fic among others things, but I'll try to finish this one first. And I am not forgetting the other work I promised to some of you. Thank you to @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan & @babyblue711 for awesome beta reading. Enjoy.

French spoken -> italics

It was a terrifying thing to witness. 

Mass and queues of thousands of men waiting on the sand with the hope of being evacuated upon the Channel before the Germans broke the last lines of defence. And Tom had only one job: bring back as many as possible to the destroyer and manage to make it home.

“Come on lads!” he shouted against the wind. “Fritz is due to call again soon, and he won’t be selling ice creams!”

Then a bloke with a thick eastern accent tried to board the barge, a wild look in his eyes as he approached the boat. “You cannot stop me,” he spat as Tom pushed him away, telling him off. 

“Oh, yeah? I can with this, mate,” he replied, drawing his handgun and pointing it at him.

Tom didn’t want to be here. Every minute he spent away from home felt like part of himself was betraying him, his father’s look as he refused him fresh on his mind, as well as the discussion with you. He had a task to accomplish, and even though he understood why this guy wanted to flee, he could not let him. Who did he think he was? 

He tried to explain why he couldn’t board with them, but the wild look in the man’s eyes grew more determined. He was not giving up, Tom reckoned.

“I’m ready for death.” 

But neither was he. “We’re all fucking ready for death mate! We’re all ready for death.” 

Because life was apparently set to make him feel like he was in hell.

“Shoot me!” the man screamed and Tom had widened his eyes a little before finding his cocky expression again, refusing to let compassion take the better of him before the blond-haired man's desperation. Because every second he was spending on French soil infuriated him, wishing that the aching in his chest would disappear and be replaced by the usual soldier dread or determination his mates all seem to possess, like that eastern man obviously had. 

Instead Tom was doing everything he could to get you out of his head, one way or another, and being geographically close to you did not help, at all.

“Right, behave, lads! Any more hassle and I’ll be going home with a boat half-full!” he shouted at the beach, the feeling of his gun heavy in his hands as the blond boy was shoved away.

Then that sound. That shrilling howl, that recognisable whistling that meant death filled the beach and all looked up. Several Stukas, Luftwaffe’s most dreadful aircraft were diving on them, dropping bombs and shooting away.

Everybody around him started to shout and move, panic taking over the entire beach as he saw the bombers dive one by one. Tom felt his whole body fill with dread, the same feeling he had had on the Graf Spree as it got bombed kicking in and the next minute he was running, sprinting among the soldiers and the fire raining down on them. 

He had said he was ready for death, but as it came nearer and nearer his need to escape it only grew stronger. That would not be how he ends, not how he parted with his father. With you.

So Tom ran. And Tom fell.

The Nazi flag that hung below l’Arc de Triomphe was flapping against the warm wind of June like it belonged there, red, black and white flashing against the blue of the sky. Behind it marched hundreds of German officers who were parading on the Champs-Elysées with arrogance under the sour gaze of the Parisians that had enough courage to leave their home to witness their entrance.

But Paris felt empty, most of its inhabitants had fled when the capital had been declared an open city a few days prior, the government relocating to Bordeaux the next day as the threat of a German bombing loomed over it. What was left of the French forces was only a deformed mass, scattered across the North of France as soon as the German had pushed through the Meuse and Sedan, trapping them between them and the sea. Many died as they covered the evacuation of Dunkirk, some even lucky enough to reach English shores when the remaining troops were either taken prisoners or killed. Only a few had managed to come back, either wounded or forced to take the German’s advancement by speed as they tried to reach Paris.

But Paris was now occupied, left defenceless as the exodus carried on. And there you were, in the city since the start of May, learning day after day of news of defeated battles and death, heart falling in your chest as the enemy crept closer. 

It was upon your return from England that you had decided to go to Paris, after you had found your parents and after they told you that your brother had enrolled in the army back in January and hadn’t come back. An argument ensued in which you blamed your parents who had hidden this from you in order to have you stay in Manchester, feeling betrayed and left out by their omission. So you had packed and headed for the capital only a few days before the Germans had crossed the Maginot Line and put the whole country in disarray.

If your brother was to appear somewhere, you hoped it would be there. You would not sit back and wait for him to appear or not appear. You would not wait to learn of his imprisonment or death comfortably with your parents. You would not experience the same feeling you had had when Tom Bennet, whose blue eyes and wry smile haunted you every day, had been away at sea.

As he surely was now.

You sat down in your tiny flat and, feeling like it was for the millionth time, began writing the same words at the top of the paper again: Dear Tom, Then, after two minutes of agony you crunched up the paper into a ball and threw it in the bin atop of the rest.

It had been months, and you doubted that you would ever be able to put your thoughts into words, what you wanted to say to him. You felt that a letter was not enough, and it surely was.

You weren’t even sure it would reach him.

If he was still alive.

"They dismissed you? Just like that?"

"They didn't really have any choice. The Germans do not care about a shabby café, they prefer three stars restaurants."

It was several days after the German parade and you had just entered the American Hospital to find Henriette, catching her on her way to the office in order to enter new deaths to the registry. 

Just in time.

“If you aren’t able to work anymore, you should leave Paris. Maybe go to the zone libre,” she suggested to you as she washed her hands thoroughly in a tiny sink.

“No, if I want to have a better chance at finding my brother, it’s here in Paris. No matter how much I hate being here,” you said, looking around to witness some Nazi officers stroll the corridors. You lowered your voice. “You should be the one leaving. Go in the countryside, not… staying among them.”

Henriette looked at you terrified as she glanced at the Nazis disappearing beyond the halls, then she gave you a frantic shake of her head. Your friend was Jewish, and you were awfully worried for her since the Germans’ arrival, the anti-Semitic ideas they brought with them spreading at an alarming rate.

“My duties are here and I am helping people, the ones who fought for us,” she answered as she went to the desk to grab the log book. “Even when some are ungrateful, might I add. Always feels rewarding when they are getting better.”

You eyed the book in her hands before giving her a short smile. “Men giving you a hard time, then? Hope it’s not the doctor,” you winked, aware of your friend's crush on the American.

She gave you a scolding smile. “Non. Some British guy who was very unhappy to be in Paris. Just, straight rude, called Jacques a coward. He did not like it,” she scoffed.

“Right, I swear they aren’t all like that," you laughed, picturing in your head a man like Tom doing the exact opposite of what you were claiming British people didn’t do. You tried to ignore the pang of guilt and longing you felt thinking about him again, a daily struggle, “What’s an English man doing here anyway? Prisoner?” 

“Wounded at Dunkerque and brought back, shot in the shoulder. That boy was a sacré numéro.”

But you were not listening to your friend saying that the soldier had been a handful, because your anguish was considerably growing at the sight of the papers she had mulled out of the drawer, drawing all of your attention to it.

“Je peux voir ?” you said, voice slightly trembling. Can I see?

Every week it was the same routine. Ever since you had settled in Paris, you visited the hospital where you knew your friend received a daily list of the deceased soldiers that had passed away in the hospitals of the area, and every few days you came and consulted said list, hoping that your brother’s name would not appear. You dreaded the day you would learn that he had indeed made it to Paris, only to die there.

Henriette sighed. “Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” she asked, assessing your worried eyes staring at her.

As an answer you just extended your hand so she would give you the list, and she reluctantly did. As your eyes travelled the papers, you heard Doctor O’Connor enter the room and greet you. You absent-mindedly greeted back, eyes not leaving the list of  names. 

“Are they gone?” Henriette asked Webster in English.

“Yes, the one that vomited was pretty eager to leave. I doubt they will ask to go downstairs again after that.”

You gathered they were talking about German officers that had visited earlier. They were everywhere, even in the last place you wanted them to be. You try not to let it get to you.

“Good,” your friend answered with a firm nod. “Because I don’t think I could pull another miracle like that next time.”

You were about to put the paper back down on the desk, relieved not to see your brother’s name written on it, when your eyes noticed something and your heart stopped.

No.

“Henriette?” you said in a voice you did not recognise, your eyes refusing to leave the piece of paper. “What did you say that English guy’s name was?”

Both the Doctor and your friend exchanged a look before answering. “Uh… Bennett, I think,” she said.

“Tom Bennett, Royal Navy,” finished Webster matter-of-factly while watching you with curious eyes. “Why, you know him?”

You looked up from the paper, feeling the world spinning. No, there was no way. 

“What did he look like?” you heard yourself ask, your voice barely audible as you felt your throat burn.

“British?” Webster answered with a scoff. “Blue eyes, blond hair, a pain in the ass. Big mouthed.” 

You felt your vision blur for the briefest moment before it cleared again, and you let out a trembling breath you didn’t know you were holding.

This wasn't happening.

You had to sit down, and when you reached the chair next to the desk you felt Henriette rush to your sides in order to ease you down.

“Y/N, qu’est-ce qu’il se passe? Do you know him?” she repeated in French, concern in her eyes as Doctor O’Connor was looking at you dumbfounded, a brow arched high on his forehead.

You struggled to speak, your eyes fixated on the ground. No…You needed more time.

“How…” you began, swallowing hard to control your tears from flowing, hand over your mouth. ��…when did he die?” you asked, your voice escaping your throat with difficulty. It took everything you had not to close your eyes and not fall apart on the spot.

“Oh no, no he is not dead, Y/N,” said your friend as she took your hand gently. 

You glanced up at her. “What? But…” you stammered, looking at the paper you had put back on the desk with the names and back at her.

Doctor O’Connor seemed to catch up, closed the door and came to crouch next to you, lowering his voice as he spoke. “He is not, we only declared him dead so he would not be taken prisoner of war. We found a way for him to make it back home.”

You widen your eyes, not realising that they were wet from your own tears, heart beating hard in your chest. Tom Bennett was in the same building as you were.

Alive.

“What the fuck do you call this outfit? This your revenge?”

Tom had just grabbed the brown vest that looked like it had been lifted from a dead body from the male nurse. Jacques, he thought his name was, from what he had gathered when he had woken up five days earlier. 

When he was met with silence, Tom sneered. “I know you speak English, you understood full well when I was calling you a coward.”

Tom smirked at the man looking out of the window to see if the way was clear, but when the nurse stopped him from exiting the room and uncovered the stretcher near the shelves, Tom’s smirk fell as he understood the plan. 

“You’re fucking kidding me?”

Being rolled around in a stretcher was humiliating, but his desire to get away from this place and the stinkers that crowded it was worth this humbling experience, the prospect of even making it home in one piece, seeing his dad, Lois, and little Lois and Harry warming his heart a bit. 

He laid still, even when he felt the stretcher come to a stop and a German officer ask questions to his “saviour”. Minutes later, the ambient sounds of the hospital died and he felt the linen over him being lifted off.

“Fucking finally. Did you take the long road or something?” he asked, straightening his clothes as he got up and took in the small room he was in, dimly lit with only one window and chairs put up against the walls. “What now?”

He was satisfied to see the frustrated scowl on the man’s face but he soon noticed the way his eyes glanced over his shoulder. When he followed his gaze, Tom felt his heart stop altogether. "...Y/N?”

You were standing at a corner of the room, unmoving, your eyes roaming over him and Tom felt crushed under it for a moment before you suddenly moved. He barely had time to register it was really you before you crashed on to him with force, enveloping him in your arms. 

“Oi, careful there,” he winced with a scoff when he felt the pain that shot through his fresh wound at his shoulder. But he didn’t make any move to push you away as he felt your breath on his neck and your scent fill his nostrils, so familiar, so sweet. He had no choice but to assess that it was really you. 

You were finally in his arms. 

Well, almost. “Sorry! I didn’t think…” concerned, you pulled away from him, giving him space and making him instantly regret his words. “I know you’ve been shot, I was just so happy to see you…” 

“It’s ok. You can’t be as bad as a bullet,” he chuckled, taking in the way your cheeks reddened at his joke and eliciting a small smile on your lips.

He managed to stay still for only two whole seconds before pulling you back against him, willing to take everything you would give him, everything you were. Your warmth, your embrace, your presence. You were the first familiar face he had seen in weeks, and he was still processing that you were really here.

He felt your hands coming to rest on his back again shyly, taking care not to press against his shoulder and he exhaled in blissfulness. He held you close until a clearing of throat came from somewhere behind him. You both pulled apart to look at Jacques, hand on the doorknob and absolutely not ashamed to have ruined this moment.

“Hey, Y/N. Tell him that he must be in the hall at nightfall, the contact will wait for him there. Meanwhile, he must not move from here, it's too much risk, d'accord?"

Tom saw you frown. “Oui, understood. But I thought you spoke English, why don't you tell that yourself?"

"I don't have time to lose with that merdeux. He can already count himself damn lucky that O'Connor accepts to help him, and you seem to have things well in hand... So, all the better for me."

You chuckled dryly, your eyes lightening a bit as you did so, and Tom arched a brow on his forehead at that. What was so funny?

“Very well,” you replied as the man opened the door and made him stop when you thanked him with all of your heart. Jacques gave you a nod before barely granting a glance at Tom and left the room.

“What did he say?” inquired Tom as soon as the man had disappeared. 

“He said that you must meet the contact in the hall in about…” you eyed the clock that was hanging above the door, narrowing your eyes. “Two hours, when the sun will be down. It’ll be easier not to get spotted. The Germans are tense today, it is said that Hitler himself was in Paris this morning.”

Jacques’ interruption had you take a step back away from him and as Tom mourned your closeness, he was able to notice the way you shivered at the mention of the Fuhrer. His instinct instantly went to soothe you, but he stopped himself. The distant memory of the last time he saw you and the struggle he endured during this last month slowly came back, and he suddenly didn’t know how to act anymore.

All he knew was that he had been mad at you at some point.

“So it’s not you, huh? The contact,” he said, putting his hands in his pocket bitterly. “Seemed too good to be true.” 

You must have seen his mood change on his face because you brought your arms to cross them over your chest protectively in reaction.  “No… I know my way around, but I don’t have the means to go to Spain,” you tried to joke with a smile, but it didn’t stick.

Instead, Tom felt everything he had on his heart slowly takes over. “I came for you, you know,” he said, not leaving your gaze. “Back in Manchester. I came back to your flat, but you were already gone. No goodbyes, no letters, nothing. You said three days.”

He watched as your eyes filled with guilt instantly, making him want to take back what he had just said, make you understand that it was all because he had been miserable. 

But it was too late. “I thought it would be better that way, for everybody. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry…” he nodded, tongue pressing against his inner cheek in animosity. “You didn’t even send a letter to us afterwards. To Dad and Lois. To me.”

“I… I thought you wouldn't have wanted me to. I thought you would be mad at me,” you tried to explain.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” he scoffed. “Did what we had mean so little to you, Y/N?”

“Tom…”

“No, really. I know you’re the bravest out of the two of us and all, but when you take so much place in my head, I would have expected you to at least try and end things properly,” he blurted out, nostrils flaring a bit in repressed rancour. “That would have been more like you.”

Tom was spiteful, but otherwise he found himself rather calm considering what he had experienced the last two months after he had discovered you gone. And now you were staring back at him, tears in your eyes, and he felt awful.

"It was a mistake," you suddenly said, shaking your head and hiding your face from him. "Coming here. I should have left you alone, I'm sorry."

You made for the door, passing by him in a blink of an eye and he barely had time to react. He tried to stop you as he made to grab you with his wrong arm, making him groan in the process and he was left with no choice but to rush to the door as well. He slammed it shut as you opened it, trapping you against it.

"No wait-" he called out before lowering his voice to a whisper, your hair brushing against the side of his face. "Wait… I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." 

You turned around, leaning your back against the door as you tried to not let a single tear fall over your cheek.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, coming to press his forehead over yours as you closed your eyes in reaction, his own refusing to leave your face. "Don't leave again."

You let out a trembling breath that fanned over his skin. “You’re the one leaving…” you said sadly, smiling weakly as you opened your eyes, glimmering. Then he felt one of your hands flatten against his chest between the two of you, resting there.

“It would be so much easier if you hated me…” you continued, looking somewhere between the hand on his chest and his lips, and he felt compelled to bring his own finger over the side of your jaw.

“Yeah…” he scoffed, grazing your skin. “Well I don’t think it’s that simple.”

Only your breaths could be heard in the room as he savoured your closeness, slightly pulling back from your face so he could see you better.

“Come with me,” he said in a low murmur, making you look back at him with wide eyes. “I don’t know where I’m going, but at least it will be away from here. Away from them.”

You bit your lip, almost like you had waited for those very words, a pained expression instantly appearing on your features. “I can’t Tom, I-” you started as he felt the pressure over his chest grow. “I have to stay here, in case he returns, I can’t…”

“Who?” he asked, his fingers falling at the hem of your dress over your shoulder in incomprehension.

“My brother,” you answered in a light shake of your head. “He was in the north, fighting. We have had no news for months, and I hoped… I hoped that he would come here, after everything that happened. After they were pushed back. Just maybe.”

Tom felt a rush of empathy take over him as he watched your eyes turn mournful, feeling the need to take the anguish away, to erase the pain on your face that he had pictured you with so many times when he was at sea himself. He wanted to be even closer.

But you have never felt so far away but at that moment. 

“Y/N…” he started, seeing you escape his gaze once more. “If your brother is still… If your brother is still out there, Paris is the last place he’ll come.”

“But you made it,” you said, eyes fluttering, hopeful. “You’re here.”

“I was lucky,” he admitted grudgingly. “I was wounded, they told me they passed me through the lines before the Germans got here. Otherwise I’d be taken as a prisoner of war. Otherwise I’d be…”

He stopped, choosing not to think about the horrible things that would have happened but rather of what was.

“Otherwise I wouldn't be here, with you,” he pressed, applying a light pressure on your shoulder that made you shiver. “Trust me, if I had a choice I wouldn’t have come here, and your brother won’t either, Y/N.”

You let out a defeated sigh. You already knew all of that, you just didn’t want to admit it.

You ducked under his arm, leaving him cold and longing next to the door while you brought a hand to your throat in anguish, not quite looking at him. “I know. I know I just… I can’t just wait, not knowing while they kill and terrorise and take over. It’s just… horrifying Tom.” 

“Come with me,” he repeated, coming to stand right behind you. “There is nothing left for you here, right?”

You turned to him, the tears in your eyes gone as you looked at him with renewed determination. “I can’t, you have to go home, and they have a plan to get you there, a sound one. You are the first of many, this is important, and I won’t be the one to jeopardise that,” you argued, taking his hand at his side with purpose.

“You’re just being stubborn again.”

You sighed, a sorry look on your face. “I can’t go with you because two people have less chance to be spotted than three. I’ll be fine if I stay, you won’t,” you pointed out, eyes intense. “I have ways to leave the city, legal ways. I… I heard you, I know I should leave, go back to the countryside. I’ll do it I promise.”

Tom remained silent, the sour taste in his mouth descending into his throat and he found nothing to say, no arguments, not even a witty response to give you. All of that because he knew you were right. 

All he wanted was for all of this to be over and to be back to the time where you read your books in his living room, drinking tea while he enjoyed a smoke and the way you laughed. But that was impossible now. He was meant to probably die somewhere at sea, or in France if he didn’t make it back, and you were meant to be with your family, two armies separating you.

“There is a curfew,” you stated after a long pause, finding your words again and speaking in a low voice. “I have to get back…” 

He wanted to argue, to find something, anything, but his mind was blank. Instead he watched the way your eyelashes fluttered and how you looked at the clock like it was the fouless thing you’ve even seen.

“Oh, I have something for you,” you remembered, and he saw you reach into your purse to put out two packets of cigarettes. “I figured you would want it. It’s not mild like back in Manchester but, maybe you’ll like those anyway.”

Tom stared at it, unable to take it at first. That was it, the sign that your time together was coming to an end, that you would disappear again and although neither of you wanted to, he knew that you had to.

You put the packets in his hands yourself instead, letting your fingers rest on his hands for a while, pensive.

“Come home safely, Tom, and desert,” you stated, a smile at the corner of your lips. “Properly this time.”

He smiled back. “Well, I’ll have to come back eventually. Who would be left to save your sorry frog’s arses if not us Brits, eh?”

He had talked in a joking manner but he absolutely didn’t feel like laughing, rather focusing on not letting his frustration that was growing by the minute get the better of him and on your fingers on his hands.

You had smiled a bit but your stare was intense, meaningful. He felt like time had stopped before you suddenly came to hold him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder again softly and staying there, silence stretching. 

“Take care of yourself, Tom,” you breathed in his neck, your voice trembling. “Please.”

He held you back, wishing the moment would never be over and he could feel the beating of your heart somehow, beating along with his own. But after a while you slightly pulled back, letting go of you and he felt your lips press a single kiss on his cheek, unsure if the wetness there were your tears or his own.

“Goodbye, Tom.”

Then you were out of the room, barely letting him take a last look at your face as you closed the door behind you, and he just stood there, waiting for the steps to fade away in the corridor like some sort of dream. Then he brought his hand to his face, brushing it as to wake up.

He looked around, alone in a room he was doomed to wait in in order to get back where you weren’t, and when he kicked the bin that was beside the door with his foot, sending it to the other side of the room, it didn’t soothe him at all.

That was the longest two hours of his life.

You had no appetite on this yet another Franco-German morning in your flat. Pigeons were cooing by your window where your bag laid open, half packed, clothes spread other the bed and left abandoned there. Maybe what had pushed you to start packing last night when you came home, dry tears over your cheeks was the will to finally make the sound decision and leave Paris, the conversation with Tom ringing in your ears telling you that your brother wouldn’t make it back here. You’d be better back at your parent’s, you gathered. Or maybe what had pushed you to pack was something else, but you didn’t want to dwell on it, deciding to chase the ache in your chest for now.

You decided to visit the hospital in the afternoon, unable to rest until you knew if it had worked. You knew it was too early, but you didn’t care. If something had happened, they would know of it. Webster would know.

When you entered the lobby, you almost turned back when you saw the abnormally high number of German officers, coming in and out of the heavy doors as you tried to make your way to the first floor. When you reached your friend, she immediately dragged you into an empty room, panic in her eyes.

“Ils l’ont arrêté, Y/N,” she said, taking your hands.

“Arrested? Arrested who, Henriette?” you asked, feeling your throat tighten at her expression, desperately looking into her eyes.

“Léon, from the psychiatric unit. They came this morning and arrested him.”

“What?” you exclaimed, half relieved and half scared. “Why? On what ground?”

Henriette gave you a pained look. “Because I think that he is… Because he is Jewish.”

You recoiled, dread filling you as you thought about your bag on the bed back in your flat and your friend in front of you, all alone.

Like you were.

“That’s it. You’re not staying here. You’re leaving, and I’m coming with you.”

“But I can’t! I have work here, I’m useful, I save lives… I need the money.”

“You won’t have money when they’ll put you away in those labour camps. Henriette, we can't wait around until they take you away.”

Your friend only stared at you, defeated. She didn’t want to leave Paris, what she had always known. She didn’t want to leave her job or Webster.

But you were right.

“Très bien. I just don’t know what to do.”

“I do. Pack, we leave in the morning.”

A/N: By the time the Germans entered Paris the 13 of June, the Parisians that remained stayed inside their homes in fear, as there was a strict curfew. I made reader witness the parade for image purposes.

Here's an accurate representation of myself in my father's attic searching for testimonies of my grand-father and objects from WWII.

I frigging' love that attic.

Part 5

(bold means I couldn't tag you) @chainsawsangel@mischiefmanaged71@depressedperson88@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @yentroucnagol@crlttpstrn @tssf-imagines @omgkatherine01 (I allowed myself to tag you) @nightdiamond8663 @r0segard3n

[introvertedfox]

Hi! I'm back-ish... Still haven't opened my game since...I don't even know when was the last time really xD I've been in an artsy mood lately and I've been taking advantage of the little free time I have to draw or sculpt.

Don't know when I'll get my motivation to play again, but I I've been missing the sims, so hopefully soon. In the meantime, I'll try to find some time to fill my queue with the nightmare legacy that's been sitting in my folders. No promises though. xD

[canmom]

status of canmom projects

for me to keep track as much as anything.

thrust//doll: steaming ahead in active development. this is taking most of my time at the moment.

ghost barrier: page 7 is drawn, and I’m working on giving a proper archive on the canmom.art site. once that’s done, and maybe page 8, I’ll post it. or you can get a look right now if you sub to the patreon. wink. I would like to commit to a regular update schedule but lets get the infrastructure up first eh.

animation night: haven’t missed a week yet and i’m not going to. I added a new introduction to the archive! I want to fill in some of the gaps, but we’ll see what time permits.

umineko liveblog: sorry for the hiatus here. I’ll be getting back to that tonight or tomorrow, all being well.

comics comints: hopefully going to write one of these on the weekend. the queue is: The Less Than Epic Adventures of TJ and Amal, The Sandman (this one’s gonna be a monster), Dresden Codak. reading some other stuff, we’ll see if I wanna comint on it.

bookposting: this isn’t exactly a series or anything but I’m cooking some kind of post on charity’s Serious Weakness. it’s just a daunting one to tackle! i keep rewriting it in my head but I need to actually sit down and write lol.

nier guide: someone recently commented asking when I’d write up NieR Automata! with the anime it seems like it might be a good time. but uhh... look at that list, no promises I’m afraid!

learning to animate: hoo boy this on fell by the wayside T_T. I’ll try and squeeze a little practice animation in somewhere.

Also planning to release some short stories soon. More on that when I have more to report!

indefinite hiatuses: perspective drawing series, history of the anime girl, final baru article, adventure time liveblog (anyone remember that?). I might randomly pick one of these up if the mood strikes.

[artemiseamoon]

I may work on one or two WIPs this weekend. No promises. Still moving slowly atm and trying to catch up on rest. My queue was full for months, but will be running out soon. I think I have 4 things left. So I’ll fill it with some random stuff for the coming weeks.

Coming up / current wip list

[reversesymmetry]

Okay. Time to address the elephant in the room.

Some of you guys probably followed me for my writing. I have some bad news.

I have no inspiration to write right now. I haven’t for close to two months. I’ve tried everything I know how to do to get myself to put words into paper, but I just…. Can’t. I know I’ve got a couple things in my writing queue and a handful of docs that have 0 updates on them since the beginning of February. I know I’ve said I’ll work on certain things. But for whatever reason, I have no desire, drive, or interest to write right now.

I’ll hopefully get my inspo back this summer when work cools off a bit and after my vacation and the concert in August, but that’s a bit like wishing in one hand and shitting in the other to see which fills up first. I’m really sorry if I’ve disappointed anyone. I promise I’m trying.

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here (just me making excuses and whining and being pathetic under the cut)

I’m just in a shitty headspace. I won’t go into detail or talk about it in depth but I live in the Midwest, in a very red state, and I’m trans and queer and terrified to leave my house every day. We had to take our pride flags down a few months back and it’s just this oppressive weight on my back that won’t go away. If they pass even half of the laws they’re wanting to pass in my state we’re screwed. I can’t afford to leave.

Other than that, I’m just struggling at work and with my writing in general. I hope I’ll get better about it soon. we’re at least getting edibles this weekend so I think that will help my mood at least.

[reyskyber]

.

[sweetsunflowerkisses]

back to you.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon (TWD) x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst (kinda but it's resolved by the end)

Warnings: sexual themes, vulgar language, slight cannon divergence, Negan being generally inappropriate

Summary: Daryl has escaped the sanctuary, but you were left behind, as his thoughts of you stuck there begin to consume him he decides to leave that night to find you, but maybe he should have a little more faith in you to find your way back to him, after all, you've survived this long right?

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: this is my first daryl fic so it's probably a little bit OOC so im sorry about that ! i also really don't enjoy certain parts of this especially the ending so im sorry if you hate it. this was definitely supposed to be up 4 hours ago but I forgot to queue it this morning !

Alexandria. A Week after Daryl’s escape from The Sanctuary.

He can see you. Just from the behind, He sees your hair, it's greasy and he can see streaks of walker blood and mud mixed in, he sees your shirt clad body, the garment clearly worn, covered in walker guts and fraying at the edges. He opens his mouth to call for you but no sound exits, he reaches out instead, pushing through the brush to try and reach you. He’s closer now, he can hear your voice.

“I know Glenn, I’m coming, I promise.” It was light and angelic and it somehow sounded so much more carefree than usual.

His heart drops to his shoes. Glenn.

Finally you turn to look at him, your face is clean, despite the rest of your person being covered in dirt and walker blood. Your eyes soften as you look at him, and he’s happy, for a moment, until he sees Glenn.

Glenn, surrounded by a soft white glow. Glenn, dressed in all white. Glenn, whose hand is outstretched towards you. Glenn, whose hand you take.

You’re inches away from the light, and he knows in just a moment it’ll consume you. His eyes welled up with tears, he hated crying, hell he struggled with his emotions period. He was brought up on the idea that emotions made him weak and vulnerable, but for you, in this moment he was willing to risk that vulnerability to make you stay. He tried to scream for you to stop but all that came out was a deafening silence.

You looked at him, giving him a small sad smile, before letting out a whisper. “I’ll see you soon my love. I promise.” Your words were soft and deliberate and he felt a pain shoot through his chest as the light consumed you and Glenn.

And then Daryl’s eyes shot open.

It was just a dream, of course it was, he tries to reassure himself. But it doesn’t work, after all every time he closes his eyes he’s met with images of Glenn’s body, broken and mutilated, and your face, pure shock and heartbreak at the death of your best friend. Images of you being dragged away by Negan’s henchmen screaming and crying for Glenn, for Maggie and for him haunt his mind. Your screams echoing in the deepest parts of his subconscious.

He missed you, desperately. He found himself wishing that he had said those stupid three words to you, unsure if he would ever get to say them to you now. His thoughts wandered as he got ready, they were still on you but more along the lines of wondering if you were ok, if you were at least being treated right.

You had been taken. Taken on the same night you had to watch two of your closest friends die. Taken by the man who had committed those horrific acts in front of you and your friends.

He felt guilty. He was the reason your best friend was dead and the reason that you were in Negan’s possession. He felt guilty because he couldn’t get you out of that place, away from Negan’s filthy hands.

These thoughts plagued him, day and night, as they had since his escape from the Sanctuary. It filled him with anger, and if he was brash and irritable before, these thoughts amplified those traits tenfold.

He sighed, pulling on his boots and heading out to find Rick. He had been asking Rick almost daily since his return if he could go out and scout out a way to get you out. But everyday Rick told him no and it seemed that today was no different.

“C’mon man you gotta let me go.” Daryl pleaded. Something he didn’t do often, something only someone like you could be worthy of him doing.

“No, Daryl I toldya you gotta lay low for now. Trust me I’ve got people scoutin’ a way out for her, she’s like a sister to me and I’m done losin’’ people.” Rick sighed . “We finally know where in the Sanctuary she is. So soon enough we’ll find a way to bring her back to you. To us.”

“Then let me be the one to get ‘er out.” Daryl’s tone was low and defeated. He couldn't help but feel like he’d failed you, he felt like maybe it wasnt that Negan wanted you to have you but that Negan wanted you as a prize, a reminder that he was winning this war.

“Look I know you want to be out there. I’d feel the same if it was Carl ‘r Michonne. But you gotta trust me brother, we can’t risk losing both of ya.”

Daryl knew Rick was right, they’d been doing this routine for days but everyday that passed made Daryl think more and more about what could be happening to you in that place, and so despite knowing that Rick’s logic was sound Daryl couldn’t wait any longer.

Tonight. He would bring you home tonight.

The Sanctuary. Around the same time.

You were still. Quiet. Today was the day. You knew it had to be now or never, that tonight would be your one chance to escape. Negan was expecting an answer soon. He had proposed to you, almost right after he took you captive. And had made the interesting decision to allow you to live like one of his wives until you answered, but every day he was more and more adamant for your answer.

Captive. Every day you had to remind yourself that that’s what you were. Negan was particularly good at making it feel like that's not what you were. Although you supposed that it was only because Negan liked you. Wanted you. Or more specifically, wanted your body.

Negan’s compound, The Sanctuary really was a nice place. Or it would have been if it wasn’t overshadowed by what was borderline slave labor and ruled by a bat weilding murderer who killed two of your closest friends. The sanctuary was home to many modern conveniences that you had long forgotten existed. You had taken most to the library, often hiding away there to avoid Negan and his insistence for you to accept his “gracious offer” as well as his generally inappropriate remarks.

During your time in the library your thoughts often turned to Daryl, you knew of his escape and had played a small role in facilitating it and you began to wonder how he was doing.

You knew that he was likely beating himself up about having left you behind and you knew he was probably blaming himself for Glenn, bottling up those emotions.

You were quite aware of Daryl’s aversion to feelings. You had been through it with him many times before. With Merle’s death. With Beth’s. Hell in your own relationship with the crossbow wielding redneck.

The two of you had a long and complicated relationship, starting off with snarky banter that slowly became a constant need to be around each other before progressing into what it was now. And now that you were here in this situation you found yourself wishing that you had gotten to tell him that one silly sentence. The one you had always felt but been to scared to say, and now you wondered if he would ever even get to know.

You prayed with every breath that he was safe. Lying low. That Rick was taking care of him and keeping his mind off everything enough that those thoughts and emotions didn’t consume him. But right now, your own thoughts were focused on the fact that tonight you were going to see him again. No matter what it took.

One good thing about being Negan’s latest interest, besides the whole not dying or having to work for scraps thing, was that as long as you complied with Negan’s requests and sat and looked pretty for him he let his guard slip more and more each day.

Which of course is how you found out that tonight he was taking his beloved Lucielle and some of his men to check up on a savior outpost that had apparently been causing some issues. So you had spent the past two days plotting a course out that would result in as little casualties as possible.

The plan was actually relatively simple, wait for Negan to leave, wait two to three hours more and take common routes down to the gate and clear a passage, killing any guards that would be in the way of a smooth exit, head to the garage to grab a bike and meet your trusted ally on the inside who would open the gate and let you out.

Now all you had to do was wait.

Around an hour later as you were lounging in your bed reading a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray that you had stolen/borrowed from the Sanctuary's library when you heard a sharp knock at the door before the handle turned and Negan let himself in.

“Hey baby…” He drawled breaking the previously peaceful silence in the room. “Whatcha got there?”

You sighed subtly pulling the sheets closer to your body as Negan sat himself on the bed. “Uh- Dorian Gray. It's a book.” You responded, trying to keep your voice calm and even. “You leavin’ ?” You asked to shut the book and placed it on your side table.

“Yeah unless ya want me to stay.” Negan smirked his gloved hands ghosting up your arms and over your collar bones. “Ya finally ready to officially accept my offer doll?” The nickname felt wrong. You never liked doll, or baby either as a matter of fact. As much as you pretend to hate it you loved when Daryl called you woman you would give almost anything to hear those words from him right now.

The feeling of gloved fingers grabbing your face broke you out of your trance and back to the present, Negan's hand bringing your face around to look at him. “You off in lala land there baby?” He asked before continuing, “Thinkin’ about how good I’ll fuck ya if you accept?”

You cringed internally at the thought. “I believe I've come to a decision, but I’d like to sleep on it for one more night, if possible.” Technically it wasn’t a lie, you had come to an answer, and it was no, but he would find that out in the morning.

“Sounds good to me, But i’ll say I’m hopin’ that I’m comin’ back to a yes and that hot bod.” Negan grinned before caressing your face and exiting your room. A shudder running down your spine as the door shut behind him. Two hours left.

Two hours seemed rather short as you raced around your room, stripping off that awful black dress and trading it for your comfortable worn jean and long sleeve ensemble that you had kept at the back of the closet. You took time carefully packing a small bag, filling it with the book you had taken along with some extra rations you had snuck into your room and a canteen of clean water. Lastly you strapped your trusty hunting knife to your belt and shoved the gun that you had stolen from one of Negan’s men the week prior into your waistband before flinging your small pack on your pack and slipping into your dirty but oh-so comfortable combat boots.

And just like that the plan was in action, you slipped through the halls, your steps soft and deliberate. You were only going to kill if necessary and luckily the first few guards were easy to incapacitate from behind. However, things got tricky as you made it out of the main compound and towards the gate, there will still people out and about and you carefully made your way through the shadows avoiding people as much as possible.

When you reached the gate you were thankful to only find a few of Negan’s men who were simply loitering around, a couple carefully placed knife slashes and they were all down without as much as a sound. Now it was time for phase two. You raced back the way you came headed for the garage, you reached it with ease, grabbing the bike that you had stolen the keys to almost a week ago and wheeling back towards the gate.

In this moment you found yourself thinking back to when Daryl taught you to ride, it was an interesting series of events, ones that specifically led to your current relationship with the bike rider. You found yourself grateful for those lessons and reminded yourself to thank him when this was all over, an end that would hopefully be coming soon.

When you reached the gate Sherry was there as promised. Sherry who had facilitated the escape of your lover, and who was currently risking her life and happiness for you. You smiled at her mouthing thank you as you brought the bike’s engine to life, but of course in this world plans tend to go awry right when things seem good so it wasn’t surprising that as Sherry was about to open the gate you heard an alarm.

“Shit!” You cursed to yourself, looking behind you to see a small band of saviours headed for the gate. “Open it and run okay !!” You shouted to Sherry. She nodded, opening the gate enough for you to exit before running off unnoticed into the shadows. You swung your leg over the bike and sat yourself in it, slowly accelerating into a faster speed as you saw the saviours approaching from behind. Within a few short seconds you were on your way, The Sanctuary far in the distance behind you.

The Woods. A while later.

Daryl walked slowly through the forest, crossbow and flashlight held at the ready. He was determined to get you out tonight if it was the last thing he did on this dead infested earth. Each step was purposeful and he was on high alert, he had heard earlier that day that Negan was out and about tonight so he needed to exercise extreme caution. Daryl whirled around as he heard a groan come from not far off his left, and expertly fired an arrow into the walker before continuing on into the woods.

The forest around you was quiet, eerily so, you had seen a few walkers on your journey but nothing that you couldn’t handle. You looked around you as the woods started to become more and more familiar around you before you recognised the path that had become so usual to you. It was the path that you and Daryl frequented on runs. You were close. Close enough that you could barely believe it and you continued up the path.

Despite it being night Daryl was still incredibly aware of where he was, the path that he was parallel to was the one that was used for runs, however as far as he was aware no one from Alexandria was on a run at the moment so no one should have been on that path. Yet his ears didn’t deceive him as he walked more and more along the path the faint rumbling of an engine became more and more clear.

Daryl loaded up the crossbow again, shutting off the flashlight and hid himself in the brush waiting to see if the incoming person was a threat but what he wasn’t expecting was you. You in all your beautiful glory, riding in on a motorcycle. He let the crossbow drop, alerting you to his presence, but he was too stunned to speak. He said nothing as he walked up to you and embraced you.

You couldn’t believe it, Daryl, your lover, your life was here. In front of you, hugging you, his strong arms wrapped around you, his hands gently rubbing circles into your back. You brought your arms around him, burying your head in his chest, letting the tears that you had held back for so long slip.

“I missed you.” You whispered.

Daryl pulled away a bit, cupping your face in his hands, his rough and calloused hands that were somehow so much more tender than Negan’s could ever be. “I missed ya too. I-" He sighed. "I was worried you wouldn't make it back.” He said softly, his voice deep and gravelly, as he pulled you into him once more.

"I'll always come back to you my love." You whispered into his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, whispering the words into your hair. This time you were the one to pull back, taking his hands in yours, looking deep into his eyes, “None of this was your fault love. Not Glenn. Not Me. That was all Negan and I don’t want ya feelin’ like it was even an ounce your fault.” Your words were sincere and they helped Daryl ground himself in this moment, with you really being in front of you. He nodded softly leaving you for a moment to pick up his fallen crossbow before returning to you and the bike.

“C’mon woman,” He started, lowering himself onto the bike “Let’s get you home.” You smiled softly climbing on after him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Daryl turned the key and the engine roared to life. As the two of you were about to start off on the journey home he turned his head around with one more thing to say.

“I love you Y/N.” It was soft and sincere and full of love and heartache, you smiled softly in response before pressing a passionate kiss to his lips and whispering “I love you too.”

[sugarylawliet]

hi! could you please write Mello smut where Mello thinks his s/o is cheating on him with Matt and then he obviously confronts his s/o about it which leads to a fight and then they take it to the bedroom with some degradation kink? thank you :)

mello my beloved...i'm down so bad

> warnings: nsfw/smut, slight degreation, smoking mentions, jealousy

"Matt, let me have a hit?"

The brunette boy sat adjacent to you eyes you with a quirked eyebrow, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth as the scent flooded the enclosed room, though nobody in the hideout seemed to mind. "You smoke?"

"No, I just wanna try."

Matt shrugs, plucking the cigarette from his lips and handing it to you. You bring it to your mouth, inhaling. You begin to cough as the heat hit the back of your throat with a sour taste, earning a chuckle from Matt.

"What's wrong?" He swings his arm over the back of the couch behind you, "Can't take it?" He smirks.

"Shut the hell up, Jeevas."

He presses a hand to his chest, acting fake-hurt, "That stings, sweetheart."

"Whatever." You laugh.

Suddenly your blonde-haired boyfriend is before you, looking quite unhappy. Had he been in the room the whole time? You hadn't seen him a second ago, as if he had just appeared.

"What's up Mello?"

He says nothing, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up from your seat before dragging you out of the room behind him.

"Ooooooh," Matt called teasingly; you flip him off before Mello pulled you out of the room.

"Mello, let me go. What the fuck is wrong?"

His silence remains unbroken, speed walking down the hallway with you being dragged along behind him before he reaches the door to his room, pulling you inside and slamming the door. He's looking towards the door and seemingly fiddling with the lock as you stare at his back.

"Mello-"

"Shut up." He raises his voice, slamming his gloved hand onto the door with a loud crash. His angry demeanor scared you into submission.

“Y/N, do you think I’m stupid?”

“What?”

“Tell me.” He turns around to face you.

“N-no.”

“So why do you think I don’t notice you constantly flirting with Matt? Are you with him, huh?” He slowly walks towards you, backing you up until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed behind you. “Are you cheating on me?”

“What? No, I would never, we’re just friends, Mello, you know that.”

“No, I don’t know that, Y/N.” He inches closer to you, his knees touching yours causing you to fall down, your back hitting the bed as he towers over you.

Mello bends down so his body hovers over yours, tracing his fingers along your collarbone and slowly inching down. He pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor before caressing your sides and your stomach. “Seeing you flirt with him, seeing how much he likes it...it’s not fair, Y/N. You’re mine.” He dips his hand under the waistband of your pants, slowly rubbing his fingers up and down your heat through your panties, but not putting enough pressure on his touches to give you the contact you needed. “You know how jealous I get.” He whispers in your ear.

“Mello...” You buck your hips upwords, desperate for more pressure to his touch.

“Hah, needy much?” He pushes your hips back down with his free hand, “Why should I give you what you want after you flirted with my best friend, hmm?” His middle finger moves up to rub your clit slightly through the fabric teasingly. “Bad girls shouldn’t be rewarded.” He removes his hands from you, instead taking off his gloves and running his fingers through his hair nonchalantly. 

“Mello, please...”

“What was that? Oh, now you want me to touch you? Didn’t seem like that a few minutes ago.”

“I do Mello, please, just touch me...” You buck your hips up, desperate for friction, earning a chuckle from the man standing over you.

“Beg nice and loud for me sweetheart, let everyone else hear how desperate you are for me. I want Matt to hear, I want him to know you’re mine and only mine.”

Your face flushed red at the thought of the others in the hideout hearing you, but the desperate words spilled from your lips nonetheless, “Please, I need you so bad. Please touch me Mello, I want you, I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Mm,” He smirks, quickly pulling off your shorts and underwear, “That’s my good girl.” He dips two of his slender fingers inside your heat, earning a loud moan from your lips. You press your hand over your mouth, embarrassed at how sensitive you were to his touch.

“None of that,” He uses his free hand to remove your hand from your mouth, his fingers pumping faster, “I wanna hear your moans nice and loud, doll.” He adds a third finger, curling them upwords and hitting your sweet spot. You gasp, your breath hitching as you push your hips upwords. Mello removes his fingers, earning a loud whine from you.

“Mello, I was close...”

“I don’t care. You don’t like being teased? Then stop being bad. Now get up.”

You obey, standing up before Mello sits on the bed in your place. He motions for you to come over, cohearsing you to straddle his lap. He unzips his black leather pants, pulling himself out and pumping a few times, locking eyes with you.

“Please...” You beg.

“Do you deserve it?” 

“Mhm, I’ll be good, please. I’ll never even talk to anyone else in the hide-out anymore except for you, whatever you want, I promise. I’m only yours, please, I need it.”

Mello licks his lips with a cocky smile, guiding his cock to push into you with a deep groan. He places his hands on your hips, guiding you to ride him as he throws his head back. “God, Y/N...”

“Mm, fuck Mello, you feel so good...” You moan loudly, disregarding your previous concern about being too loud and allowing profanities to spill from your lips.

Mello bucks his hips to meet with your grinding, the both of you quickening your pace as the sound of both of your moans and pants. filling the room. Mello’s teeth bite down on his bottom lip with his eyelids half-closed in pleasure. He reaches his finger down to rub your clit as you ride him, quickly approaching your climax. His added touch earns a loud moan of his name.

“Mm, that’s right Y/N, moan my name. God, you sound like such a slut. Could Matt make you feel like this, hm? Tell me...”

“N-no...’

“That’s right, I own you, only I can make you feel like this, make you scream like this, right? Huh?”

You gasp as he thrusts harder into you, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix and bringing you to the edge of your orgasm, “Oh god, Mello, fuck, yes, you own me,” You could barely talk due to the pleasure flooding your senses. 

“Make it up to me and cum for me Y/N.”

Almost on queue, your grinding slows as you release around him with a scream of his name, him finishing soon after you. You rest your forehead against his, exchanging the sound of loud panting breaths as you gathered yourselves. After a minute, he taps your thigh, signlining for you to get up. He fetches a wet towel from the bathroom, tossing it at you and fixing his clothes. 

“Let this a lesson, Hm? I hope the other guys heard you sounding like a slut for me so they know you’re not allowed to flirt with them anymore.” He winks at you before swinging the bedroom door open and leaving.

[tennessoui]

kit's silly little hiatus

hey besties, don’t panic. it’s just for a little bit.

i’m facing like…a pretty busy next few....days? weeks?. with a lot of obligations and annoyances and things that meet in the middle. but some moments that promise to be really great too. and i think it’d be best for me, for y’all, for irl people, if i took a small break from tumblr to give everything the attention it deserves. i’m temporarily stepping up hours at work to save for a new laptop + i recently got a promotion with zero pay raise but basically i’m the singular task manager for over 200 people so that’s a big oof. i’ve got family and friends in and out of town starting soon, and the weather is supposed to get really, really nice really, really soon. and i absolutely love the sun.

so: cut to the point, what does this mean?

i figured i can probably guess some important faqs, so here’s my best shot:

This feels like a pretty serious announcement for something that’s supposed to be small.

i know. i figured it’s better safe than sorry. i get that when someone just stops posting for a bit, it’s easy to get worried. That’s the crux of internet friendships/internet people. sometimes you don’t know what happens to blogs and that is understandably worrying. i don’t want y’all to be worried. so even if it’s just the one person who would have noticed, i’m making a very long post about it. just in case.

People who take hiatuses never come back. Look at ao3 abandoned stories.

i understand the confusion. but i am not one direction.

Is this not fun anymore?

no, it absolutely is fun. it is so fun i have forgotten how to have other hobbies. last week i told my friend i couldn’t go to a concert with him because i was in for the night on tumblr.

When will you start your hiatus?

april 4th. i know, i’m jumping the gun on this """announcement""" a bit, but i also didn’t want to just spring this on you. i’m going to spend the rest of the week setting up a tiny queue (maybe) and answering asks/writing the tiny prompt fills i’ve been putting off since june 2021 (definitely).

When will you come back?

may 5th. it really will just be a month.

What are you going to do during your hiatus?

maybe start watching all those movies on my list that y’all have been telling me for like a year i need to see?

Most people can watch movies and have a tumblr/time for tumblr.

it’s a LONG list.

What are you seriously going to be doing?

i don’t know! isn’t that exciting?? maybe i’ll learn to parallel park. maybe i’ll finally buy another laptop. maybe i’ll get back into cooking, assuming i can budget well enough to do something nice. i know i’ll write. i can’t wait to write. i have one commission i will probably finish and post sometime during april because that’s an important commitment i won’t forget.

Will you keep your commissions open? Your ask box?

so. commissions, yes. i can’t…really afford anything else at the moment. as for my ask box, i don’t think so. i don’t want anyone who doesn’t catch this hiatus message to send me an ask and then think i’m ignoring them. it’d be better just to close it, so i think i will on april 4th.

You could just pin this hiatus message.

i could. i don’t want to. i think people think of blogs on hiatus as dead blogs, not worth the follow. and it’s so very vain of me, but i would like to think come may 5th, i’ll be just as worthy of a follow as i am now (which, you know. you decide what that worth is). but a pinned hiatus message? imo it scares people away.

So what happens now?

it’s march 30th. i’ve given myself five days ish to get everything set up, and in that time i’m just gonna be kit as normal. if you wanna send me an ask, please do! or a reply on a post! or a fic comment! i absolutely do not want to leave anyone hanging or waiting, and i absolutely don’t want you to…think i won’t miss you or this blog. it’s just a month because a month is all i can think i can do because i’ll miss y’all so much. but this is important i think. for me to do.

see you may fifth, bless 💙