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lanadelnegan · 9 months

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season 9/10 Negan smut where reader and him are fuck buddies (negan is kinda catching feelings tho) and reader sucks him off in his cell 😫

Lip Gloss

S10/11 Negan x Reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, NSFW, oral (m receiving)

"There's my girl." Negan grins at you from the dim light of his cell as you appear from the top of the stairs.

"I'm not your girl, Negan."

"Not yet." He stands up, making his way towards me. When he gets close enough, he grabs the front of my shirt, pulling me closer to him until I'm flush against the cold bars.

My lips crash against his and I moan into his mouth. He just finished lunch earlier and the taste of a sweet apple still lingers on his tongue. It's been a little over a week since we last touched and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't given myself an orgasm every night to the thought of him. But it doesn't compare to how he makes me feel. I've never had a man touch me the way Negan does and I can't help but coming back for more.

"I'm gonna need you on your knees, y/n. Now."

I drop to my knees in front of him without hesitation and find myself eye-level with the large bulge in his pants. I quickly unzip him and pull out his semi-hard cock before giving it a few strokes. It grows to full length in my hand and I lick his tip teasingly.

"Keep teasing me and see where that gets you, baby." He grins down at me.

I take a moment to admire him before taking him into my mouth. I want to enjoy this as much as he will. I caress his heavy balls in my hand and bite my lip at the sight of his prominent veins spread throughout his cock.

I glance up at him before lifting his cock and stroking my tongue across his balls, taking one into my mouth and lightly sucking.

He watches me proudly, his eyes blown with lust. "Holyyy shit, look at you, my dirty girl."

"Not your girl, Negan." I remind him while licking my tongue up his shaft.

He reaches down to tuck some hair behind me ear and rubs his thumb lovingly across my cheek. "Keep telling yourself that, doll."

His tip is red, throbbing, and dripping with precum. I hold his cock in my hand and guide the tip across my upper and lower lip like I'm applying lip gloss.

"Goddamn, y/n. That is one hell of a sight."

My precum coated lips allow his dick to slide past them with ease and I don't stop until I feel the tip of him touch the back of my throat. He's so big that my hand still completely fits around the part that I can't fit in my mouth. And he's so fucking thick that it's hard to get my mouth comfortably around him, but I make it work because all I want to do right now is make this man feel good.

I close my lips around him and moan with him still in the back of my throat before pulling back slightly. I begin to suck him at a steady pace and his loud moans fill the empty room around us.

His fingers grip my hair roughly as he pushes my head further on his cock, making my eyes fill with tears. I jerk my head back and take a deep breath.

"What's wrong, darlin'? You were doing So. Good." He laughs, guiding my head back towards him.

I take him in my mouth again and suck harder and faster.

"Oh, Fuck, doll. You're gonna make me fucking cum." His breathing grows erratic. "You want it down your throat, baby?"

I nod my head desperately, sucking him like I need his cum to survive.

He lets out a few more loud, raspy moans before angling my head upwards by tugging on the back of my hair.

"I want to watch you swallow my fucking load, baby. You ready?"

His hip thrusts stop abruptly as he lets out a deep, animalistic groan. "Ah, FUCK. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck, baby."

With each "fuck" he says - warm, salty liquid shoots from his tip, filling my mouth completely. I savor the taste of him for a moment before swallowing it down and moaning with satisfaction.

At least I know I'd never die of thirst if we ever get lost together. I could drink his cum and be just fine.

He pulls me back up by my chin and I lean forward to kiss him, letting him taste his juices on my tongue.

"Mmm, baby. We taste So. Good. together."

I glare at him. "It's not happening, Negan. Stop trying to make this something it's not."

"No worries, darlin'." He smirks against my lips. "I've got all the time in the world."

Thank you for the request! Hope you like it. <3

xoxo

#jdm x reader #jdmfanfiction #jdmorgan #jeffrey dean morgan #negan #dead city #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #negan fanfiction #negan smut #jdm smut #negan smith #negan smith x you #negan smith x reader #negan x reader #negan fanfic #negan x you #daddy negan

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a-suspicious-number-of-ducks · 12 days

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Hermit-a-Day May, Day 13: CubFan135. As you can probably guess, today's style/medium is sidewalk chalk! I was originally gonna do Stress in chalk, but then I took one look at Cub's s10 skin and the glorious mess of bright colors and knew it had to be him. He is depicted here having just had a firework blow up in his face. I went a little simpler with this one because chalk isn't a particularly forgiving or detail-oriented medium--especially not the blunt Crayola sticks I was using. Also I accidentally jumpscared an Amazon delivery lady while I was outside drawing this. Materials and more details under the read more!

Materials: Crayola 24 pack of sidewalk chalk from Walmart and my front porch.

References: N/A, other than Cub's skin.

I really don't know why y'all are so excited about this whole "outside" thing. There were so many ants.

I realized immediately after starting on the eyes that the black chalk stick had an extra black coating on the outside and the rest of the inside was just dark gray. This meant that I had to do the extra dark parts with a brand-new section of the stick each stroke. That got old fast. Also the light gray and the white were practically indistinguishable which made shading the coat very difficult. I had to go in with light blue to keep it from all blending together.

This is a "Biblically accurate" Cub (meaning I stuck to the skin pretty closely) because I simply don't know enough of his lore to pick hybrid traits. There's skulk stuff? But also vex stuff?? idk man I just like pretty colors

I'm not... thrilled with the facial expression? I liked my sketch better but somewhere along the way of filling in colors I just... lost what I liked about it. I'm giving myself some grace on that, especially with the mouth, because the point on my black chalk was pretty near gone at that point and details are hard under those conditions.

The Amazon delivery lady walked up to our front door. I was facing away from her, but caught the movement out of the corner of my eye. I made several inhuman spluttering noises while trying to process sudden person. She heard me and yelped because she hadn't seen me there either. We proceeded to frantically apologize to each other before she wished me a good evening and fled the scene. Note: if attempting to replicate my process to draw your own chalk Cub for some reason, the delivery lady jumpscare is an absolutely essential step.

#hermitaday #hermit a day may #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanart #cubfan #cubfan fanart #cubfan135 #cubfan135 fanart #my art

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championashley · 5 months

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Alright. I said I would write this and I’m gonna stay true to my word.

I’ve been seeing a lot of takes since The Giggle has come out questioning the potency of 14’s ending. People have been citing multiple different times during the reboot era where the Doctor has “settled down” somewhere, from Darillium, the university in S10, to even Trenzalore. However, I think all of these comparisons are apples to oranges, completely missing the details of each instance and how The Giggle’s ending rebukes all of them.

So, because I cannot leave an inaccurate take alone, I’m going through every single one of these instances and explain why 14’s ending is different from them, in chronological order.

I’m gonna start with a weird one: S7EP4, The Power of Three. Because it provides a good example of all the things we’re going to be talking about.

Prior to this episode, long time fans already had a good idea that the Doctor…does not do well in monotonous environments, a truth that is consistent across multiple incarnations.

“I don’t do families.”

“Street corner, two in the morning, getting a taxi home. I’ve never had a life like that.”

“Here you are, Living a life, day after day. The one adventure I could never have.”

“Christmas dinner.” “I don’t do that sort of thing.”

“Oh god I had a terrible nightmare about you two!” [Talking about Amy and Rory having a normal life in Leadworth]

The entirety of The Lodger

“There’s a bigger, scarier adventure waiting for you in there.”

The Power of Three, spells this truth out in bold, montage style marker pen. The Doctor “needs to be busy”. Why, as Amy later asks?

Personally I think this answer varies slightly between regenerations, based on experiences and losses each face goes through. 9 couldn’t imagine a life of peace coming out of a war, a war that he had a major hand in. 10 continues that idea, with the added baggage of losing Rose. 11’s reasoning is a bit subtler: he says to Amy that he is running to things before they go, as if he now understands how short beautiful things last. He’s going from one thing to the next in avoidance of staying to watch things die.

“And what’s the alternative? Me standing over your grave?”

This doesn’t change by the end of the episode. The Doctor explicitly tells the Ponds that he’s only staying to watch the cubes, and once the threat is gone, he’s already out the door. He only stops because of a potential threat, an idea we will return to in the next example. He even accepts the idea of Amy and Rory wanting to stay behind: “things to do. Worlds to save. Swings to swing on. Look, I know. You both have lives here. beautiful, messy lives. That is what makes you so fabulously human. You don’t want to give them up. I understand.” The Doctor is saying, ‘I know you have lives here, and that I can’t always be a part of that. And that’s ok.’

This episode in my opinion is a perfect microcosm of The Doctor regarding this topic, spelling out explicitly why The Doctor can't ever settle down. The Doctor needs to have something to run to because they don't feel secure enough in any place to not allow their altruism outweigh their need to process their trauma. The only thing that could motivate the Doctor to stop, even just for a second, is the promise that their friend(s) will be there too. The next example is the worst-case scenario of this issue.

Trenzalore is an interesting case. When I first heard of it being counted, I immediately shut it down, because Trenzalore was a literal war zone (wars are obviously not a good place for mental health time). But in doing research, there is actually way more baggage contained in this period making it unsuitable for this argument than just that fact.

Trenzalore was set up to be the Doctor’s final resting place, where they would truly die. It wasn’t the first time a death prophecy had surrounded the Time Lord, and once again, just as with The End of Time, the thing that kills them is, what Davros would later call The Doctor's “greatest indulgence”: compassion. Tasha Leem warns 11 that she will burn the planet upon the possibility of the Time Lords returning, a warning the Doctor takes extremely seriously.

“This planet is protected.”

“Christmas has a new sheriff.”

For 300 years, 11 stayed true to his word. He fought long and hard, for the townspeople and his own. He was celebrated and was loved. But Clara returning with the TARDIS revealed how he really felt about all of it.

“Everyone gets stuck somewhere eventually.”

“But you didn’t have your TARDIS.” “Well, that made it easier to stay.”

There’s an unspoken sentiment in these words, echoing 11's philosophy in Power of Three: the Doctor will always want to leave, in this case, to understandably avoid his prophesied death. But he doesn’t, because “Every life I save is a victory”. Their compulsion to help, their innate capacity to help those in need. So often it’s been their greatest strength, but here it’s framed as destructive selflessness. 11 has become so wholly committed to helping others before himself that he’s willing to accept his own death.

Clara correctly calls this out: “What about your life? Just for once, After all this time, have you not earned the right to think about that?” The Doctor didn’t stay on Trenzalore for himself, he stayed for everyone besides himself. It’s only because Clara gave the Time Lords a proper verbal smackdown that the Doctor managed to survive. Had they not intervened, The Doctor would've suffered and died, once again to protect them, despite already saving them from annihilation in the previous episode, Day of The Doctor. Trenzalore wasn't The Doctor stopping, it was a century-long effort to keep satiating the bottomless survivor's guilt they still carried from The Time War.

Darillium is yet another case of looking like a time the Doctor settled down somewhere on the surface. But the details don’t match that conclusion. The entire thesis of 12 and River’s final conversation was about the fleeting nature of their situation.

“Times end, River, because they have to. Because there’s no such thing as happily ever after. It’s just a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is so hard.”

The Doctor says this, cries at hearing the Singing Towers, despite already knowing they have 24 years in a night. Because he knows it can’t last. There’s already a deadline on their moment of peace before it’s begun. Eventually River must go to The Library.

The final quote of the episode punctuates this: “And they lived happily ever after.” Fading away until “happily” remains. Because they didn’t have their “ever after” and they didn’t “live”, because a person can’t entirely experience life to the fullest with a clock hanging over their head.

While they got their moment of happiness, it was only a moment. 24 years is just a blink of an eye for a Time Lord, and sure enough, we see by the end of “The Return of Doctor Mysterio”, the next chronological episode, 12 is ready to leap back into the fray. Still the same overall Doctor he was before.

The University is an extension of this. We find out that the only reason he has stayed is to guard Missy in the vault. When 12 tries to mindwipe Bill (an eerie parallel to both Donna and Clara), he directly says: “I have no choice, I’m in disguise. I have promises to keep.” Just like with Trenzalore, The Doctor’s altruism has trapped him somewhere he doesn’t actually want to be. The second he hesitates, he immediately runs after Bill, inviting her into the TARDIS and sneaks off to the universe behind Nardole’s back.

So, now that we’ve gone through each past instance, what’s the connection? What’s the key issue(s) that prevented the Doctor from permanently stopping in any of these cases?

The (fear of) loss of their friends, and the Doctor’s own self-loathing. Either out of fear of the march of time, or the chains that their altruistic nature binds them to, The Doctor always runs away from the picket fence life.

Now, let’s look at 14 and how this ending departs from all other examples.

Wild Blue Yonder and The Giggle more prominently explains 14’s origins as a coping mechanism. The reason why 10’s face came back was to retreat to an incarnation that didn’t invoke the loss of The Ponds, Clara, and Bill. The second destruction of Gallifrey and the reveal of The Timeless Child. The Doctor’s avoidance of their trauma has now been made physical, just like how mental stress can often manifest as physical changes or ailments.

“We stand here now, on the edge of creation, a creation that I devastated, so yes I keep running, of course I keep running!! How am I supposed to look back on that?!”

Already this is a departure from the instances we’ve discussed, because by the very nature of having 10’s face again, it’s forcing the Doctor to ask why.

“It’s like I'm trying to tell myself something. Like I’m trying to make a point.”

But 14 chooses not to answer it, because answering it means accepting the truth: it’s too much. The trauma can’t be avoided anymore, because The Doctor would always be reminded of what they’re trying to avoid by looking in a reflection. 14 telling Shirley, “I don’t know who I am anymore.” Then asking Donna, “what am I? What am I now?” It’s not because he’s been given a blank slate and doesn’t know what to do with it, like other regeneration stories. In trying to run away again, to bury the trauma and pain, The Doctor has made it more visible than ever, and doesn’t know what to do with that.

Ironically, the Toymaker causing the bi-generation was the greatest gift he could’ve given the Doctor, because 15 was exactly who 14 needed to see. He’s happy, energetic, full of life and wonder, but also empathetic, understanding and open. He’s the only other person in the entire universe who The Doctor will listen to (well, one person, we’ll get to the other later), because he knows all of the trauma they went through, and yet, made it through ok.

“But you’re fine.”

“I’m fine, because you fix yourself.”

15 is leading by example, their own ‘ghost of Christmas future’ but positive. 14 now has an ideal self to strive towards, a face born from love and empathy. 14 doesn’t have to ground herself out of moral obligation, 15 will now protect the universe.

But that leaves one question: why Donna? Out of all of the people to settle down with, why her? That’s easy: because she gets it.

Donna, out of all of the companions the Doctor traveled with, understood the soul behind the legend, because she recognized someone fundamentally similar to herself. One of Donna’s signature character flaws is her horrendously low self esteem: “I’m nothing special.” no one ever listened to her (thanks Sylvia, for at least cleaning up your act later), so she covered up the silence with noise. She held onto whatever indisputable moments of genius she had to drown out the cacophony of voices shutting her up. Wild Blue Yonder explained this perfectly: Donna believes she is both brilliant and stupid at the same time.

She lives in two contradictory self images at once, and so does The Doctor. The genius and the idiot. The universe’s most fascinating person, and the person who would easily throw away their life for the betterment of others. She’s seen their blinding arrogance/rage (the Racnoss, Jenny) and their crippling self doubt/loneliness, and always met both with empathy and kindness.

“Doctor! You can stop now!”

“Cause sometimes I think you need someone to stop you.”

“It won’t stay like that. She’ll help you. We both will.”

“Is ‘alright’ special Time Lord code for ‘really not alright’ at all?” “Why?” “Cause I’m alright too.”

Donna shouldered the burden of destroying Pompeii, she silently hugged 10 after coming back from Midnight. All because she knew what all of that would feel like in her own life. She didn’t need to know the history of The Doctor and Davros, because she saw her best friend afraid and knew he would want comfort, because she would too.

Even if Dalek Caan manipulated the timelines to get Donna to him, That friendship was completely real to both of them. We saw what Donna was like without the Doctor in Forest of the Dead and Turn Left, and she always felt some level of unhappiness. 15 years removed from them and she still felt as if something was missing. In every future/reality, she always wanted them there. Same for the Doctor too. Within only a few episodes of losing her, 10 started to fall into becoming the “time lord victorious”. 12 looks the way he does because of Donna’s plea to adhere to his name, and save people. Even before 14 came into existence, the Doctor was willing to tell other people how important she was to them, on account of River recognizing Donna by her name: “you’re Donna, Donna Noble.”

Donna didn’t just travel with the Doctor and she wasn’t just friends with them. She completely understood them, their soulmate. Two halves of a greater whole, The DoctorDonna. 14 stayed because there was a more stable incarnation to take his place, and because his best friend would be there alongside him, helping and supporting him through and through. The Doctor stayed because, for the first time in their life, they felt safe. In where they would be staying, and what they would be leaving behind.

That's why 15 doubling the TARDIS was so significant. In giving 14 her own TARDIS, 15 is allowing his younger self to have what they always removed from the equation: free will. The Doctor can still go anywhere they want, which makes them even more motivated to stay and fix themself. 14 can feel safe staying with Donna, Wilf, Mel, Rose, Shaun, and Sylvia because the option to travel is still there.

And the truly amazing part of all of this is that the TARDIS knew it from the beginning. Was it a coincidence that very soon after 13 regenerated into 14, the TARDIS landed close to where Donna and Rose would be shopping?

“You didn’t always take me where I wanted to go.” “No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

The TARDIS brought the Doctor home, and this time, they stayed. Because it was a place where they wanted and needed to be.

#doctor who #doctor who spoilers #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #dw meta #dw spoilers #doctor who meta #meta writing

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charmac · 3 months

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Today I spent about an hour around/with Rob and I'm gonna write about it.

He recognised me from last night, came up and talked to us where I really lost all ability to calm or filter myself (which was, admittedly, already very little). He told me he's been seeing a lot of my Tweets and I asked why he followed me. He said he thought I had "a lot of fun and interesting things to say." I did not expect that, literally at all, I was trying to see if he knew my handle, @/pqdres, was for San Diego's baseball team, so I derailed myself from that conversation a bit lol oops.

The night before this he signed my S10 DVD cover on the plastic protector I had, so he offered to sign it properly when he noticed I had it with me again tonight:

I know I just kind of bulldoze over his words, (He said “Thank you for all the Twitter love”) but it’s because I had a script in my head and.. I'm sure a lot of you guys get it, lol. He didn't seem bothered, which I really appreciate.

He took individual photos with everyone who wanted one (like half the people in the bar (which wasn't even that many) had no interest in him) and when we were taking mine he asked for someone to shine an overhead light so we could get a good picture together bc I offhandedly said I needed to turn off my front flash.

I met him again, a little later at another bar (like Charlie and Glenn in October, he just kinda was walking around and hitting up various bars Four Walls was advertising at) and I apologised for my constant presence around him. The reason I stuck around was because I had one last request for the night, something I very much owed to @macdennissurvivor. I told him Emma was the person who got me into the Sunny fandom, and I would appreciate if he could say hi to her on camera. I started recording and then he said 'Nope give me your phone' and then went on a walk and recorded a 20 second video for her on my phone. I think that moment was a fundamental tilt for me.

I know I criticize this man a bit, but god-fucking-damn-it if he isn't the creator of my favourite show in the whole world, one of my favourite characters of all time, half of my URL, the reason I am writing and creating as much as I currently do, the reason I have made actual, real, deep friendships in the past few years, and he took so much time and patience with me, he recorded a whole video for my friend because he does fucking care. He sees us, this part of the fandom, and he appreciates it: that we’re a community and truly connect through his show. Words really can't express my emotions. Thank you Rob, for this.

#i have not cried in i cant tell you how long #and i got home and just.#3 tears fr #he got me.#he fucking got me as he should #FUCK dude they say never meet your faves #its because it means youre gonna simp for them for life i think #jesus #personal #rob mcelhenney #i made this post on twitter and #those teens are priv quoting me to hell #jealousy .. rough #anyway.#sorry if i look like a wanker but i don’t care lol

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 1 year

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Words: 4,019 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: flashbacks, current day is S10, The Reapers Warnings: language, violence, gore, angst A/N: This is Part 1 of a new commissioned miniseries! Thank you to @ankhmutes for their generous support! Summary: Daryl loses Y/N in Atlanta and her absence colors his years.

Your name: submit What is this?

Atlanta – About 10 Years Ago

He could feel your hands clasping his face, your thumbs moving lightly over the bruising and swelling. His eyes fixed on the pout of your bottom lip and then moved up to swim in the depths of your irises. Fingers in his hair, the weight of you against his chest, the pressure of your fingertips dimpling into his sides. He could almost taste your lips again. He could almost catch your scent.

“God, what did they do to you?” You threw your arms around his neck and he pressed his hands into your back to hold you tightly against him. He could feel the shuddering of your breaths and the wetness of your tears falling on his shirt. “I thought I lost you for good,” you managed, pulling back to look into his face again. Your eyes were round and glassy. “And then to find you—but this way—those men.” You were trembling underneath his hands.

Daryl ducked his head. “‘M sorry. ‘M so sorry,” he managed to croak out. “I didn’t know they—I knew they were bad but I never thought—”

You hastily clasped his face again, brushing his hair away. “Shh. I know. I know… It’s not your fault.”

His breath hitched in his chest and he melted down into you again, hugging you tightly against him. “I ain’t ever lettin’ go of ya again.” You’d kissed him and your lips tasted salty with your tears.

“Daryl. Daryl… Hey, Daryl!” Carol grabbed him by the shoulder and he startled slightly. Her furrowed brow was heavy over her blue eyes. Daryl snapped back to the present.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry…”

Carol straightened up, but the concern didn’t leave her face. “You good?”

He ducked his eyes and nodded. He wasn’t, but he had to be.

She sighed and looked back out the window at the expanse of burnt buildings unrolled before them. “We’re gonna find them. Both of them. Y/N and Beth.” She glanced back at the archer. His expression was grim and worn. She could feel the fear and anxiety radiating off him. “They’re both strong. They’ll be okay.”

Daryl shook his head and stared down at his hands. He was anxiously fiddling with a bit of glass. “After the prison fell, when we found each other again, I told her I wasn’t ever lettin’ go of her… I promised. And then we had Terminus… and now this… Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “Separated by a bunch of walkers?” He shook his head and leaned heavily on his hand against the window. “I shoulda made her stay at the church with everybody. Shouldn’ta even brought her into the city.”

Carol let out a soft laugh. “Made her?” she said. “Daryl, we both know no one can make Y/N do anything. She’s just as stubborn as you. Maybe more, though I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Daryl only sighed and looked over at Carol. She could see something looming, weighing on him. “I gotta tell ya somethin’.” Her brow furrowed. “Y/N is pregnant.” Carol’s breath left her in a whoosh of air. Daryl gulped, struggling to fight the tears in his eyes. “We just found out…”

Carol mustered her best smile. “You’re gonna be a dad,” she said. “Congratulations.”

Daryl paced a frantic circle, chewing on the side of his thumbnail. He turned and stared at Carol for a long moment, desperation on his face. “There were so many of them. What if she—what if she didn’t—”

“Hey. She did.” Carol grasped his shoulder hard. “She did. Y/N is a fighter. She learned from our best, you,” she said with a smile she hoped was reassuring. “She learned from you. And she’s smart. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Daryl ducked his head, his voice shaking, “‘M s’posed to protect her and I failed. I keep failin’ at it over and over.”

“Everything is going to be okay. We’re gonna find Beth and then we will go back and find Y/N. Okay? That is, if she doesn’t find us first.”

Daryl managed a nod, but that was all he had.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Noah limped up to the car and watched as Daryl frantically checked the area. “What are you looking for?”

“She’s—she’s s’posed to be here. Maybe she left somethin’,” he drawled, more to himself than anything. “She’s gotta be here.” He opened the gas cap and checked inside. Nothing. He looked on top of all the tires, under the hood. Nothing. He froze and pushed his sweaty hair back from his face. “Nah…”

Noah was looking around nervously. “It’s too open here. They could see us… We need to go. We have to go.”

Daryl slammed his fist down onto the hood of the car. How was it possible that he’d gone into the city on a rescue mission and lost two more of his family? He paced again, rubbing a hand over his face. He needed help. He needed the others. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the city, but he needed back-up. “C’mon,” he growled to Noah. “Let’s find a vehicle.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Daryl.” Rick’s voice behind him. “We can’t stay here any longer. We have to move on.”

Daryl’s hand clenched into a fist. “Ya think she’s dead, too,” he said. The gravel and grit was thick in his voice.

Rick passed a shaky hand over his eyes and then stared at Daryl’s crumpled posture.

“Go on then. Leave me here.”

Rick sighed heavily. “I can’t do that.” He paced closer. “I won’t do that. You are my brother. You belong with us. I won’t leave you alone here. We all need each other more than—” he had to pause as his voice broke. He swallowed the lump and tightness in his throat as best he could. “More than ever.”

“I can’t,” Daryl managed. He dug his fingernails into the soil and grabbed fistfuls, just to try to ground himself with something. He’d been back into Atlanta every day for a week and he hadn’t found a damn trace of you. Nothing. And he knew the group was only waiting for him… but they couldn’t wait forever. “I can’t leave—”

Rick appeared beside him. “You have to,” he said with a sigh. When Daryl didn’t move, Rick sank down beside him and stared out at the trees. The muscle in his jaw tensed as he tried to hold back emotion. He sat in silence beside Daryl with his devastation for a long time before he finally spoke again. “When I lost Lori… when Carl was shot,” he glanced over at Daryl, “I wanted to give up. God, I wanted to,” he said softly. “I did for a while. I lost myself.” His eyes drifted up to the slices of sky he could see behind the wavering leaves of the trees overhead. “But we don’t get to give up. We keep going, because we are still here. Our family is still here and we all rely on each other. We keep going because we have to.”

Daryl sniffled and hastily wiped his forearm over his face.

“So, come on, brother,” Rick said, climbing to his feet and extending a hand down to Daryl. “Come on. On your feet.”

Daryl glanced up at Rick’s hand, his blue eyes clouded behind tears. He almost didn’t grab it. But he thought of Carl, and Judith, and Carol… of Maggie’s loss and Sasha’s… People still needed him. He clasped it. Rick tugged him to his feet.

“She ain’t gone,” Daryl said, straightening up. “I dun believe it.”

Rick nodded. “But we can’t stay. If we stay here, we die.”

Daryl felt the emptiness in his chest expanding like a black hole. “I’ll come. But I ain’t givin’ up on lookin’. She’ll get outta the city. She will. She’s gonna find us or I’mma find her.”

Rick nodded again, but his heart sank into the bottom of his stomach, like it was weighted with a lead anchor.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About 9 and a Half Years Ago

Maggie saw that Daryl was still awake when she opened her eyes in the early hours after the storm. She stood softly and went to sink down beside him, looking over at the group scattered on the ground, sleeping. Their family. What was left of it. They’d lost Bob, Beth, Tyreese, and you. One after the other. Too many. Far too many… She glanced over at Daryl but he seemed to be pointedly looking away.

“He was tough,” he finally drawled, looking at Sasha sleeping across the barn.

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed. “He was.”

Daryl stared at his hands now, afraid to look Maggie in the eye and see her grief. “So was she,” he managed.

Maggie nodded. “Both of them were.” She put a hand on Daryl’s arm. “I’m sorry—in some ways, not knowing about Bethie, not knowin’ about what was happenin’ to her was worse than—than this… Wonderin’ if she was hungry or thirsty. Wonderin’ if she was scared. Just wonderin’…”

Daryl’s throat constricted into a knot. He nodded. “Ain’t no way those walkers took Y/N down… Ain’t no way. She’s too good for that.” Maggie heard the shake in his voice and sighed, leaning back against the rough wood of the barn wall.

“Then if she’s still out there, you two will find your way back to each other. I know it,” Maggie said. She glanced back over at him and mustered a sad smile. The pain on his face was clear. “Get some sleep, Daryl.”

After she walked away, Daryl laid down on his folded-up vest, but sleep didn’t come. His fingers found the rip in the side that you had stitched skillfully back together, tiny x’s of thread. They ran over and over it, just because your fingers had made it.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About 10 Years Ago

The group stepped in through the gate cautiously, following Rick’s lead, looking with shock at the near perfect suburbia suddenly unrolling before their eyes. Everyone that is, except Daryl. His boots seemed to have rooted to the concrete.

Rick saw Aaron looking back and glanced over his shoulder. The archer was frozen, staring in across the opening of the gate.

Aaron happened to catch Maggie’s eye, a questioning look on his face, but Maggie said nothing. Aaron glanced back toward Daryl. He hadn’t moved.

“Carl,” he murmured. “Take Judith for just a sec.”

By now the rest of the group had noticed too, and they’d all stopped to look back. Rick walked back out and stopped beside him, his back to the community now. He sighed heavily and swallowed the tightness in his own throat. “We do this together,” he said, glancing over to try and read Daryl’s expression. It was impassive except for a violent turmoil in his blue eyes.

“Daryl—we need you. We’re all trying this together. We’re all much safer if you’re with us.” He clapped his hand strongly onto Daryl’s shoulder and the archer ducked his head, clearly wrestling with tidal waves of thoughts and emotions. “Come on. With us.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together.

“Come on.”

Finally, his boots started to move and he crossed the threshold of the gate into Alexandria.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“You oughta come in. Take some sleep.” It was Maggie’s voice behind him on the porch.

Daryl stubbed out his cigarette on the step next to him. “I can’t,” he drawled, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.

Maggie paced over and sank down next to him on the step, linking her arms around her knees. “I know,” she said, ducking her eyes down toward the sidewalk. “I’m so sorry. I keep thinkin’ it too.”

“What’s that?” Daryl asked, flicking his lighter open and closed.

Maggie lifted her eyes up to the innumerable stars overhead and pulled in a long, slow breath. “That maybe if we’d just gotten here sooner they’d be here to see it.”

Daryl felt like a knife twisted in the middle of his chest. It was so painful he almost doubled forward, but instead he hung his head and tried to breathe through it. When he spoke again, the struggle in his voice, his emotion was clear. “I know what ya’ll think,” Daryl managed.

Maggie glanced over at him and even in only the dim haze from the porch light she could see the glassiness in his blue eyes. “About what?”

“About—about—” He clenched his hand into a fist and pushed his knuckles down on the edge of the step as hard as he could. The pain shot through all his fingers and up his arm. He couldn’t get your name out. He couldn’t say it aloud. “‘Bout what happened,” he finally croaked out. “Ya’ll think she’s—she’s dead. I ain’t stupid. I see the way everybody’s lookin’ at me.”

Maggie’s hand landed on Daryl’s and she gave it a friendly squeeze. “I don’t think that.” Daryl’s eyes snapped up to hers. “I don’t. Because after the prison fell, I knew Glenn was out there. Even when everyone else was thinkin’ the worst, I knew he was alive. And we found each other again.”

Daryl sniffled and ducked his gaze again.

“Don’t ever give up on that, if that’s what you know.” Maggie gave his hand one more squeeze and her footsteps retreated across the porch and back into the house.

Daryl’s eyes lifted up to the night sky, and he hoped somewhere you were looking up at the same stars at the same moment.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About 7 Years Ago

Daryl startled awake in the blackness of his cell.

A dream. It was just a dream reliving old memories. At the farm, the first time you’d shot a deer with a bow and tracked it on your own. You hadn’t even needed him. You’d followed the trail like an old pro. And then after… That’s when it had happened. Everyone else had gone to bed and he was sitting by his fire, his knife in his hands, turning the blade and watching the way the light bounced off the silver edge. And then suddenly—your soft footsteps behind him. He knew their cadence.

“I thought ya went to bed,” he’d said to you. You’d sighed and sat down on the round of wood next to him. He could feel your eyes on his face but he’d stared into the flames instead, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Nope,” you’d said. You just kept looking at him and he’d finally glanced over with his peripheral vision, barely turning, and it made you laugh. And your laugh made him smile. He’d ducked his head again though. Sometimes you were too bright to look at.

“What’re ya doin’ up still? Had a big day today,” he drawled.

You nodded. “Yeah. I often can’t sleep though.” You thought of the deer, of feeding your family. It had felt good. “It was a good day,” you sighed, moving toward him onto the edge of your round of wood. He’d nodded. It had been a good day. “I want you to know something, Daryl.” His name leaving your lips—it shot electricity through him every time like he’d stepped on a live wire in bare feet. His eyes met yours again. “You’re a leader of this group, even though you don’t feel like it. There are people looking to you.” He’d scoffed and shook his head, pricking his finger on the tip of his knife. “Don’t scoff. It’s true. Rick looks to you. Carol looks to you. And so do I.”

Daryl’s blue eyes met yours again and he watched the way the flickering firelight changed the shadows and highlights on your face. You looked steadily back at him. “And it’s not just because you’re good with a bow.” You suddenly scooted closer to him and smiled. “If it were, you’d be out of the job now because I—I am pretty damn good.” He’d laughed, the corners of his mouth tugging up, shaking his head at you. You were smiling at him. You seemed suddenly nervous and you glanced down at your laced fingers. He stared at the thick fray of eyelashes fanning out toward your cheeks. “I didn’t come over here just to brag about my newfound skills, though,” you said.

Daryl’s heart had jumped. He gulped nervously. “Why’d ya come then?”

Your eyes lifted, a little wide, and looked straight into his. “Daryl—”

He didn’t know what made him do it—maybe just the way you looked at him, the firelight, the stars, something in your voice, the electricity crackling in the air like fork lightning between you and him—but he suddenly dropped down on one knee toward you and was kissing you where you sat on that round of old oak wood, and to his amazement you were kissing him back fervently. Your fingers were in his hair and touching his bare skin, and he was clasping your face with one hand and resting his other hand on the soft skin of your upper arm.

Neither of you said anything for a long moment, but the light was sparking in your eyes and you were smiling at him and then biting your bottom lip. “Do you want to… come lay down with me? Maybe we’ll be able to actually catch some sleep.”

Daryl looked at you, baffled, but he nodded. “Hell yeah.”

It was just a memory, even if it was one of the best ones. He closed his eyes again, trying to empty his mind.

But suddenly in the dark he heard your voice.

“Daryl.”

He shot stiffly upright, pressing his back into the wall. The cold concrete was pressing into all his joints. They were stiff and painful.

“Daryl.” It was your voice again in the darkness.

Nah. Ya ain’t here. Ya ain’t here… I know that. Ya ain’t in here. Ya ain’t here… God, of all the places I hoped I’d find ya, this ain’t it. Ya ain’t in here with him.

Daryl swore you materialized just then, right in front of him. He could see you, see your softness, see the slope of your nose and shape of your lips in the narrow slip of light stealing in underneath the door of his tiny prison.

“No. I’m not in here with him. Or with you.” Your fingers ran down one of the strands of his hair and he could almost feel the gentle tug of it.

So, ‘m dreamin’ again. Or I’m finally batshit insane.

“You’re not broken, Daryl. They can’t break you.” You reached to clasp his face. He swore he could feel the warmth of your hand on his cheek, the light brush of your fingertips.

He couldn’t look away from your mirage. I’m barely hangin’ on in here. I can’t—

“You can. You’re stronger than any of them.”

Daryl felt wetness on his cheeks and realized he was crying. What happened to ya? Just tell me where ya are and I’ll get outta here somehow and I’ll find ya… Just tell me where ya are.

He could see glassiness in your eyes. “Just tell me where ya are!” This time he yelled it and it echoed in his ears, bouncing off the metal all around him.

“You’re going to be okay. Just keep going…” Your fingers were light under his chin and you were smiling back at him.

Don’t leave me. Please, dun leave me in here alone again.

“Hey. I’d never leave you alone. You know I’m always with you, no matter what. Just keep going.”

Y/N. Please—Y/N? Y/N!

More tears broke out over his cheeks, but the vision of you had vanished and he was back in the dark again. A quiet sob escaped him and he punched his fist into the wall until he couldn’t bear it anymore. He fell to the ground in a curled pile and cried as softly as he could until he had nothing left.

_ _ _ _ _ _

About Five Years Ago

“Hi,” Carol emerged out of the brush, ducking beneath a low hanging branch, Dog leading her.

Daryl glanced up at her. “Hey. ‘S’goin’ on?”

She lifted up a small pack. “Nothing. Brought you some supplies.”

He nodded, watching her carefully. “Thanks.” Carol set it down beside the fire and scratched behind Dog’s ears. “Ya wanna tell me why ya really came back out here?” He fiddled with the strap over the handle of his knife.

“Can’t I visit my best friend? Have you found anything?” Carol asked, hazarding a glance up in his direction.

He ducked his head and shrugged. “Not yet. Got more places to check still.”

Carol nodded and went back to petting Dog. He watched her expression darken and tense.

Daryl stiffened. “What? Why dun ya just say it?”

Carol stood up. “Say what?”

“Whatever it is ya really came out here to say,” Daryl said.

Carol sighed. “I just—I wonder who it is you’re really searching for out here. Rick or her or maybe yourself… Daryl, it’s been five years since Atlanta and you haven’t found a single thing… Two years since we lost Rick and—”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and he nodded. “Ya want me to move on with my life, right? Come back, stop bein’ out here. That’s really what ya want.”

Carol looked down at her boots. “I want you to find some peace. I don’t want to lose you out here, okay? I don’t want to lose you because you don’t know when to stop.”

“Peace?” His blue eyes bore into Carol’s. “There ain’t no peace for me, alrigh’? You know what I lost in Atlanta. ‘M glad ya found yer peace, but I dun think that’s gonna happen for me.” He slung his pack on over his back and his expression finally softened some. “Ya ain’t gonna lose me. I just got things to do out here…

_ _ _ _ _ _

One and a Half Years Ago

This was it. Maybe he’d managed to kill Alpha, he still wasn’t sure, but he was going to bleed out here on the floor. His vision was blurry and he fought the blackness creeping in from the edges as best he could.

Your face swam in his mind. Your smile. The texture of your hair between his fingers. The feeling of your silky skin and the curve of your spine when he’d trace his hand down your bare back as you both lay tangled in the sheets. If he was going to die… at least you were the last thing on his mind.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Present Day – Twelve Years After the Outbreak

Daryl opened the door to Maggie’s shipping container. “‘S’all clear. Cole’s on watch.” She nodded and he stepped farther inside. “Hey, ‘m glad yer here. When yer letters stopped, I thought—I dunno. Maybe ya were gone.”

He watched thoughtfully as Maggie finished wrapping the fabric around the gash on her arm. She looked up at him and there was a teary smile on her face. “Ya better sit down, Daryl.”

His stomach twisted. “…Why?”

“‘Cause I got somethin’ to tell ya.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #Carol Peletier #maggie rhee #Rick Grimes

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fyreflys · 20 days

Text

Hermitcraft s10 Clip Transcriptions

[from Iskall’s ep 22]

Iskall: And now that I’ve been here 6 minutes, I gotta ask. Why do you have a- why do you have a Willy’s?

Mumbo: …it’s so- it’s- its Willy’s wood yard. What’s wrong with that?

Iskall: ok

Mumbo: What’s wrong with it- what’s wrong with that?

Iskall: it’s- duh

Mumbo: it’s a- what- do you take issue with Willy’s?

Iskall: *scoffs* no! No no no I’mma a big Willy enjoyer- Willy’s enjoyer. *realizes what he just said and giggles*

Mumbo: *quietly giggles*

Iskall: I mean- okay, in Sweden we have a shhooₚ- *still laughing* we have a shoₚ … I am fine- I am- (?unintelligible?)

Mumbo: oh no *still giggling* oh no

Iskall: ok.

Mumbo: ok

Iskall: … oh well that gets cut. No. *slams desk*

Mumbo: No, No. That’s stayin in.

Iskall: *trying and failing to talk because he’s giggling too hard*

Mumbo: I’m gonna- I’m gonna send that clip immediately to Cubfan to make a horn out of it.

Iskall: *giggling* of course. Yeah there it is. In Sweden- *keeps giggling* Hold on-

Mumbo: Go on.

Iskall: *clears throat* let me recuperate here. Auuuuuh- In Sweden we have, a shop. *snorts*

Mumbo: Mhm.

Iskall: I can’t look at you now. I can’t look at you now!

Mumbo: What’s wrong?

Iskall: Cuz of the- the- ok so in Sweden we- we have a shop called Willy’s.

Mumbo: Yep.

Iskall: it’s a good food shop. It’s a food store.

Mumbo: Yeah, exactly. There’s nothing wrong with it.

Iskall: They don’t sell wood.

Mumbo: yeah, Well no Willy’s is- and also Willy’s is another term for wood, I think. I’m fairly certain.

Iskall: ohhh no *giggling again*

Mumbo: At least that’s what I’ve heard.

Iskall: *laughing*

Mumbo: *Laughing* It is! It’s an old- it’s an old English term, I think.

Iskall: …okay. Uhhh. Right.

…

Mumbo: I’m glad you like Willy’s. I’m really glad.

Iskall: yeah.

Mumbo: it took me a long time to build it.

Iskall: It’s nice!

#hermitcraft s10 clip transcriptions #hermitcraft #iskall85 #Mumbo jumbo #gotta love innocent dick jokes

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ghostlee · 3 months

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LEE!ETHOSLAB EVERYONE

So I just started watching Ethoslab (idk why I didn’t get into him sooner lol)

But he radiates such like good lee! And ler! Energy all the time. This clip gave provoking lee!Etho and ler!iJevin

(No actual tickle content in this, just Etho being a little gremlin and the iJevin responding to Etho makin him do this nervous laughter.)

HermitCraft S10 EP1 - Ethoslab POV

Timestamp 12:40

SO HAVE SOME LEE!ETHOSLAB HC

————

Etho is a panicker, he will provoke but as soon as someone turns around and wiggles their fingers at him or says “I’m gonna getcha” or sumn he gets all giggly and panics some trying to get away.

His stomach has to be a real bad spot, there’s just sumn about him that gives off ticklish tum vibes.

Will cover his face with his hands even though he has a mask on.

Can easily be taken down with teasing alone. All you’d need to do is be like “awww are you ticklish Ethooo” and he will crumble before you even make contact.

BDubs will tickle the hecc out of Etho if he’s not listening or putting himself in danger or not taking care of his own needs.

Joel | SmallishBeans 100% when they were soulmates in Double Life would tickle Etho if he started to lose to many hearts all at once.

Playing on the idea that Joel can feel the tickles as well if someone else tickles him or Etho, I feel like people would tickle one of the two boys to tickle both of them.

Do you think if they were both tickled at the same time and they could feel the tickles while being soul bound that it would be twice as ticklish.

I could envision them both curled up on opposite sides of the map absolutely losing their shit while they got double tickled lol.

Etho definitely has ticklish hands and ribs as well. Idk gut feeling.

Etho is a big squirmer, he’s been the center of a group tickle attack and the #1 point they all have to make is to make sure Etho is secured or held down before they attack otherwise he will end up hurting himself or someone else in the struggle.

Etho will never ask to be tickled but he will 100% provoke the shit outta other people to find himself under tickle attacks.

#tickles #tickle talk #ghostleebeingagremlin #ghostleetickles #lee #tickle #ler #tummy tickles #ethoslab #hermitcraft etho #Etho #lee!etho #lee!ethoslab #hermitcraft tickle #hermitcraft #double life #life series

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detachedminxsfics · 2 years

Text

A Broad History

Characters: Negan x Ex-Saviour F!Reader

Summary: When the sanctuary and Negan fell at the hands of Rick you fell out of touch with Negan, going many years without one word. But the council brings you together again for a supply run.

Word count: 3.5K+

Warnings: NSFW - Mentions of sexual encounters, implied subtle power play dynamic, angst & fluff, xtra DILFy S10 Negan, decent use of the word fuck because comic accurate Negan *chefs kiss*

A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to upload a new oneshot!! I fell into a writer's block that lead to 3 unfinished Negan pieces, but managed to finish this one on a whim. Enjoy! :)

There would have been no way of you ever anticipating the words that just came out of Gabriel's mouth, let alone something like this propelled by the council.

"The council has suggested you and Negan make a supply run not too far out. We've scouted the area before and you shouldn't run into too much trouble."

You stared at him like a deer in headlights, and he picked up on your ambivalence immediately.

"We figured given your...previous history, it'd be a good idea tactically."

That much was true, you and Negan had a broad history. If Simon was Negan's right hand man you were his right hand woman. You pushed yourself, always picking up the extra work and inevitably landing in Negan's line of sight. You found a way into the inner circle, sat in on meetings more and more frequently, and eventually, Negan's bed. It was a controversial relationship to say the least. Negan had forbade adultery for his many wives, but excluded himself from this principle. You weren't a wife, and you never would be. You were by his side at the fall of the saviours, held back when Rick slashed his throat open. Every part of you burned to help him and put a stop to it. But you couldn't, and so you grieved. You hadn't spoken to him since that day. No cell visits, no small conversation even in spite of him leaving his cell more often now to carry out various tasks of menial labour, nothing. When he'd be working on a structure by the street hammering a nail into one of the wood beams, he'd look at you. You knew it, you could feel it. His stare was fixed on you, eyes burning holes into the back of your head everytime you had to pass him.

"Fine, but I want this shit to be accredited. People need to stop giving me hell just because we used to be together, I'm tired of it. I've busted my ass for this place and I'd do it again. So I don't want to feel like a criminal anymore."

Gabriel nodded in sincere acknowledgment.

"That's fair enough. We've packed bags with supplies for you both, just come and collect them when you're ready. Be safe."

Footsteps fell along the road as you headed towards the location that had been drawn on a map for you both, walking silently beside one another as you dared not say a thing. To say that this was strange was an understatement. You'd barely left Alexandria at this point, and yet you could see Negan fighting the urge not to speak in your peripheral. You could cut a knife through this tension, and Negan was readily equipped.

"This gig could be anywhere between 2 or 4 days long depending on how fast we move, you really not gonna speak to me that entire time?"

The sigh that left your lips blew cool clouds of air in front of your face due to the chilly atmosphere, and you stopped in your tracks, eyes squeezed shut as you gathered what you were trying to say. When you opened them he was standing right in front of you, staring attentively as your lips parted to speak.

"It's been what, 8 years? What am I even supposed to say to you Negan?"

He raised his brows in that condescending surprise type of way, and scoffed.

"Ohh I don't know, maybe you could start with why you cut me off the moment Sanctuary fell? Why you couldn't even be bothered to come visit me while I was locked behind steel bars?" His voice raised ever so slightly, an assertive tone as he scolded you for your supposed negligence.

You furrowed your brows and composed yourself, this wasn't the right time or place. The sun would go down before you know it, and you were both standing right out in the middle of the road. Got to keep moving.

"Negan listen, we can't do this right now, okay? We have a job to do. So let's start trekking through the woods and find somewhere to hole up before it gets dark. If you've got my back, I've got yours."

It was as reasonable an offer as you could make, his eyes softening a little at your de facto approach.

"Alright, I got you."

Awkwardly you stood a little longer, exchanging glances and a brief nod with the newly established compromise. Then you headed into the woods, and the journey was afoot. Navigating through the forest was a little harder, but it was better than being right out in plain sight on a main road. A walker or two would jump out occasionally, and you'd deal with them accordingly. Apart from this time. Negan drove his blade through the first walker whilst you pushed your knife into the head of the second, about to pull it out and retrieve your weapon when an unaccounted for third jumped you. Subsequently you let go of the walker you'd just killed, and it fell to the ground with your knife lodged inside of its head. You'd had no time to retrieve it, and this undead asshole was shoving against you hard. You held your hands against it in an attempt to stop it from getting any closer and tried to ground the sole of your shoes into the forest floor below you. But you were sliding, your back eventually colliding with the tree you'd been backed into.

"Negan!" Your yell was strained and panicked, more of a plead than you would have liked. But this thing was leaning in, closer and closer to gnashing your face off.

Relief washed over you as its groans and biting motion ceased, Negan having shoved his blade into its decayed head and ripped it out afterwards, and you pushed it to the ground. You bent over and placed your hand on your knees to catch your breath, that was close. Through your attempt to gain control of your irregular breathing you'd barely felt the hands that lifted you upright before they slid up to your face and rested on your rosy cheeks, holding your face in his hands.

"Hey hey, you okay?"

Flashback//

Gunfire sounded off in the distance as you and Negan headed through the woods. It had all gone wrong, a total mess. We'd underestimated the vast resources of the new community Negan had planned to hit, and we were paying the price. Saviours and the community's people alike were dead, and what was left of us would have to fight or retreat our way back to the Sanctuary. When the shit hit the fan you'd made your way out with Negan, unsure who else was worth going with. You didn't know each other awfully well, but you were all the two of you had until you reached the location Negan had told you that he'd arranged to be picked up nearby. He was lucky to have been able to radio back to Sanctuary and ask that someone come out here to collect him.

"You okay back there?"

Even trailing behind him he must have heard the subtle way you held your breath as you braved through the pain scorching through your right leg. One of those assholes had managed to slash you before you dropped him, got you right in the thigh. You'd ripped off some of the bottom of your shirt to create a makeshift bandage and tie around the top of your thigh to slow the bleed, but it was only a matter of time with a wound like this.

"One of those bastards got me, gashed my damn thigh."

Negan stopped and turned to face you, and so you did the same.

"Let me take a look."

He made his way over to you and lowered down to the ground with bent knees and a groan, now eye level with your nasty wound. He'd tucked Lucille under his arm in order to use both hands, the barbed wire quietly grinding against the material of his black leather jacket. The fabric around your wound had been ripped slightly allowing him to place his hands either side of your leg and take a close look at it causing you to hiss as the leather of his gloves brushed against your skin.

"Shit!"

"Sorry, that is one nasty cut you got there pretty girl."

Distracted by the pain you decided to gloss over the fact that he'd called you pretty and shifted your weight on your left leg. After taking a look he leant back up, using his hand to pull Lucille from the crook of his arm and wield her again.

"Let's keep moving, get back to the Sanctuary and I'll take you to doc. Hell, hopefully we run into some of the others."

You nodded and began limping behind him again after he continued his stroll, it couldn't be much longer now. Not long after the rustle of leaves caught your attention, a sound far too distanced to be your own or Negan's, and your hand smoothed over the pistol holstered onto your side. That was when it happened. One of the community's people leapt out of the trees with a machete in hand, and it was headed straight for Negan. He hadn't heard the noise as well as you had, and it was too late for him to react now. Instinctively, you whipped the pistol from your holster and fired, landing a clean shot into the side of the dude's head. He fell to the ground with machete raised still in hand, the blade having hovered just over Negan's face. When he hit the ground with a thud Negan let out an adrenaline induced laugh, turning to you with one hell of a smile.

"Holyy crap, you're a damn good shot."

With a smile of thrill still playing on his lips he made his way back over to you, this time tucking Lucille under his arm and nudging himself against your side. He took hold of your wrist in order to lift your arm and sling it around his neck. His free hand wrapped around your waist to support you whilst the other took hold of his precious baseball bat once again. He'd shifted the weight off of your leg now, and you sighed in relief at the dissipation of pressure.

"Thanks." Negan muttered now, a little more serious than he had just been prior.

"Don't mention it." You replied, sparing a glance to turn your head and look at him.

He turned to face you then too.

"You're a damn firecracker, I can tell. Me and you are gon' get on real well."

Negan smiled after that, less of a wide smile and more of a smirk. You could've sworn his sight was flickering between your eyes and your lips.

\\Present

"You still with us?" Negan said with a hint of playfulness, and you nodded in response.

"Yeah sorry just, thinking."

He narrowed his eyes a little curious and confused, but brushed it off. His thumbs had been smoothing over your cheeks as he held you when you trailed off causing him to slowly take his hands away from your face, now giving you the space you needed to stand straight and begin walking again.

"C'mon, lets keep moving."

He didn't follow after you immediately, maybe he was thinking too.

The sky had began to darken, the sun in its gradual descend when you finally stumbled across a cabin. You thanked some sort of high power in your mind the moment you caught sight of it, and then you and Negan made your way inside. Cautiously, you both began making your way around the cosy cabin, nudging open the doors of rooms and checking for any signs of life, especially the rotting ones. When neither of you found anything you began to settle in for the night. With some of your things now unpacked and the bags in their allocated locations Negan had began preparing dinner. Amazingly enough this place had a fireplace that he was able to use to cook the rabbit you'd found and killed on the way. It wasn't much, but the rations you had been given from Alexandria wouldn't last long, and you needed to conserve them for as long as possible. Wordlessly, Negan had cooked and passed you your portion of food. You hadn't said much since he tried to interrogate you after you left Alexandria. However now you were sat down, slumped down in the armchairs either side of the fireplace and directly opposite one another. You'd tried to focus on your food, but you couldn't keep looking down into your lap. Occasionally, your eyes would flicker up to meet his and betray you, and after the approximately fifth time Negan broke the silence.

"You know I thought about her a lot down there, Lucille."

You did your best not to let your eyes widen too far, feeling like your eyes might pop out of their sockets. Negan had opened up to you about his one and true wife once, and you were sure that would be all you were ever gonna get. You wouldn't pressure him to share any more, and he never spoke of her again, until now.

"She loved me even when I was a mess, when I was a total asshole screwing around on her. She was everything to me, and when she...I knew I would never feel love like that again. Then I met you."

You finally looked up to meet his eye, and if it were physically capable your skin would be stark white with sheer shock.

"So when they put me in that cell, let me watch everybody thrive and move on exactly as Rick wanted, I never expected you to be one of those people. Maybe, that you would at least look at me. Be the one person that didn't wanna cave my skull in for doing something and being somebody that they weren't even there for."

You swallowed in order to clear your mouth of food and spoke, almost cutting him off in the process.

"I never stopped loving you Negan, you kept me up at night. I laid awake thinking about you, lost sleep over you. But I, I don't know how to explain it. It felt like you were dead, and I was grieving the loss of you, but you were still alive. And when too much time had passed I didn't know what to do anymore, thought maybe you would've hated me."

"That's bullshit and you know it." Though the words seemed harsh he said and intended for them to be soft, a half smile as he meant for you to know that you were stupid for ever thinking that for one second he could hate you.

You smiled a little at the sight of his total refusal to ever truly despise you, and at him for crushing the doubt in your mind that he had ever felt that way towards you whilst down there.

"You remember what I said to you, after the first time we-" Negan whistled at the end of his sentence to signify the first time you two had screwed, and you laughed.

Flashback//

The leather of Negan's sofa creaked beneath you as you periodically leant forward and retrieved another empty mag, loaded it, and then put it down into the impromptu pile you'd made. Negan had insisted that he had something to speak to you about, from his bedroom of all places, and you promptly reminded him that you had work to do. So you brought your work with you and Negan was sat beside you, watching you.

"Hey." Though he'd spoke clearly enough you were so invested in your task that you'd barely heard him, leading him to grab your wrist and force you to halt what you were doing.

"Hey, jeez girl slow down for a minute, can I talk to you or not?"

He'd startled you a little by taking sudden hold of you, but you decided the work would have to wait.

"Fine."

You put the mag you'd been loading back down onto the glass coffee table before turning to face him. In order to be more comfortable you'd lifted both of your legs onto the sofa, resting your bent knees atop his regularly straightened out legs, his shoes brushing against the carpeted rug down on the floor. This sitting position made the two of you rather close, but you tried not to think too much of it. Sometimes when you were both working through things in the meeting room Negan would pull up a chair and sit directly beside you so that you could talk easier, and you'd swing your legs up to rest across his lap. You were both so used to it now.

"So, what's up?"

"Look, I may be getting ahead of myself here, but you're just so fucking hot. You're an awesome shot, you're smart, and you've got some massive nuts for a lady. And if you'd like, I'd love to fuck you. Serious or not, I'm down."

It was so forward, more forward than anyone had ever been with you, and at first you weren't sure how to react.

"You'd really be okay with strings attached?"

To say that you had never had even the smallest feelings for Negan would be a total lie, it was bound to happen. But when it had you'd crushed it in fear that it would end badly for the both of you. Negan had rules, and offending him too greatly could've cost you your position.

"Cross my heart baby." He uttered those words with an assuring and most sickly self-satisfied grin, nonchalantly running his tongue across the bottom of his top teeth with slightly parted lips.

That had been enough for you, and you leaned forward smashing your lips against his. For some of your intimacy you spent it on the sofa, sitting on his lap in nothing but panties as you ran your hands down his bare chest, and he smoothed over your lower back. Then you'd moved over to the bed, suppressing the most foul of whimpers as he ground into you for what felt like hours. When you both finally had enough you were laying beside him pressed into his side, head rested against his chest as his arm was wrapped around you in order to pull you closer.

"Look at me." Negan murmured softly, prompting you to look up at him, chin still resting against his chest. He reached his hand over and gently took hold of your chin, lifting your head in order to get a better look at you. He wanted your full undivided attention.

"For as long as this shithole world spins, I will never stop loving you. So long as I can continue to count on you I won't ever abandon you, and you belong to me. Okay?"

And there he went again, speaking without the slightest filter. His words overwhelmed you, and it was powerful. There was nothing but the utmost genuinity in his gaze.

"Okay, likewise."

Negan throatily chuckled as you flashed a mischievous smile, obviously implying that that made him yours too.

"That's my girl."

Using the hold on your chin he brought your lips towards his and leaned down to close the gap, pressing them against yours. When he'd initially called you in it had been late at night with a pitch black star-filled sky, but it was dawn now. Sunlight breached through the small window at the top of the wall furthest from the bed, and the beams shone down into the room.

//Present

"Of course I do, I'll never forget it."

"Well that still stands." Negan blinked slowly as his jaw tensed, anticipating your response.

Instead of verbalising one you set your food aside and slowly stood to your feet, taking hesitant steps across the space between you until you reached him settled down in his chair. You lifted your leg and set your foot down on the arm of his chair, shifting full weight onto one side and placing both of your hands on the top of the armchair. With the newly founded stability you hoisted yourself up and then down onto his lap, lowering yourself as gently as you could in order to not land down onto his lap too hard. When you were finally sitting on him he brushed his hands up and over to take hold of your hips, either subconsciously or purposefully, your hands still propped either side of his head as you were leaned in considerably close.

"For as long as this fucked up world spins, I will never stop loving you. So long as I can continue to count on you, I won't ever abandon you, and you're mine. Alright?"

A sly smile formed on Negan's lips as you renewed your unofficial vows, his eyes narrowed in that way he used to when he found something you were doing attractive.

"Yes ma'am, now c'mere."

And so you did, his lips moved against yours, and the feeling was unlike anything you'd felt these past few years. It was like a hole had been filled, like you were only half a person before. The sun had began to rise, breaching through the window on one side of the cabin, and it was just like the first time again. The council needed somebody to look after Negan, someone who wouldn't just let him die out of pure spite and risk a whole supply run. And they got that, but worse. They'd rekindled your love for one another.

#the walking dead negan #negan x y/n #negan x you #negan smith #twd negan #negan fanfiction #the walking dead #jeffrey dean morgan #negan twd #twd fanfiction #negan smut #negan x reader #negan fluff

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nortism · 1 month

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doctor who liveblog pt 51

s10 ep5 oxygen

- uh oh astronaut zombies

- uh oh dead guy

- uhhhh empty spacesuit

- late stage oxygen capitalism

- he needs to figure out some kind of tardis summoning system, it would solve most of his problems

- oh no, he just got that sonic screwdriver

- that’s what i just said

- UH OH BILL

- omg his eyes

- maybe the real villain was capitalism all along

- he didn’t tell her a joke

- ohh she’s calling for her mum, ohhh bill 😭😭

- suicide mission?

- this has got to be one of the most left wing episode since daleks in manhattan

- oh yay bill’s not dead!!

- bye bye space capitalism

- he’s still blind?!

s10 ep6 extremis

- MISSY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- i knew it was her in the vault!!

- i know he’s not gonna kill her cmon now

- he looks a bit young to be a pope

- oh he’s not the pope, i probably should have known i went to catholic school

- oh there he is

- HELPPPPPP NOT THE POPE 😭😭

- id love to go to the heresy library

- love u missy but there’s no chance of you turning good

- vatican audio book

- oh fuck he fr killed her

- oh magical teleports

- there has gonna be better ways of getting around his blindness

- uh oh dead cardinal

- i’m proper confused

- uh oh group suicide

- he literally has the veritas on a laptop, he just needs to download a screen reader. there are ways around this!!

- uh oh nardole

- rip the president

- oh he figured out the screen reader that’s nice

- yay missy

- i’m gonna be so real i don’t think i understood that one at all

s10 ep7 the pyramid at the end of the world

- at least bill got a nice date out if all this

- oh great now the army’s here, she can’t get a break

- oh did aliens actually build this pyramid

- uh oh pyramid laser

- uh oh scientist man is dead

- oh god he’s sludge

- yay blowing up the lab

- oh fuck all the army leaders

- bill do not consent !!

- oh yay the doomsday clock

- oh no he can’t see the numbers

- oh no bill

- NO BILLL

- this wouldn’t have been a problem if there was braille on the lock, disability accommodations save lives

- well that isn’t ideal

#nortism liveblogs doctor who #doctor who liveblog #doctor who #dw #new who #doctor who s10 #doctor who series 10 #twelfth doctor #12th doctor #bill potts #nardole #missy #the master #oxygen #extremis #the pyramid at the end of the world

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astaraels · 4 months

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Simple Gifts

Debbie and Mickey go gift hunting for Ian. It's not as easy as they thought it might be. Set post-s10, in the same continuity as New Traditions and Keeping Warm Against the Cold. For @lovekenney, thank you so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy! (on ao3)

The task at hand had started out simple enough—Mickey needed to get Ian a gift that was appropriate enough to open in front of the kids. Debbie may have been fine keeping her vibrators and dental dams in the room she shared with Franny, but she’d known Mickey long enough by now—and heard more than she cared to about his and Ian’s sex life—to think that it’d be smart to leave him to his own devices. And in fairness, Mickey had come to her, asking for help in his own Mickey-ish way that only a few other people could understand. So after breakfast, Debbie asked Ian if he could watch Franny—she knew he’d never turn down an opportunity for baby-sitting.

“You be good for Uncle Ian, okay, Franny?” Debbie told her daughter. Franny gave her a big hug and nodded.

“Yep! Gonna play outside today!”

Ian grinned at the little girl and scooped her up into his arms, causing her to giggle with glee. “Don’t worry, Debs. Just thought we’d go to the park for a little while, maybe get some stuff to make hot chocolate.”

“Don’t forget-”

“-her mittens and her hat,” Ian finished for her. Debbie might have felt silly, since Ian had always kept an eye on them when she and Carl were younger, but she was Franny’s mom, after all. Frank and Monica never bothered caring if any of them were dressed properly for winter. Doing the opposite of their example seemed like a pretty sound strategy to her.

“She’s got some snacks in the fridge, too. Hot cocoa only if she’s a good girl.” Debbie tapped the end of Franny’s nose.

Ian chuckled and tossed his niece into the air, just a little bit. “Franny’s always a good girl, aren’t you, Fran?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” the little girl cheered. Debbie couldn’t help but smile—her kid really was a good one.

“You coming or not, little miss sunshine?” Mickey asked, shoving his boots on as he thundered down the stairs. Ian’s face lit up at the sight of his husband, pulling him into a quick kiss before Mickey took a full step into the kitchen.

“I’m ready if you are,” Debbie told him, grinning at his lack of grumbling about the very open display of affection. Sometimes it was hard to believe how far they’d come—Debbie still remembered having to storm into Mickey’s old house and practically drag him back to Ian’s side when they were all trying to handle Ian’s bipolar disorder the first time around. He’d been terrified, she knew that now, and sometimes when things got to be too much you just needed someone else to give you that last push to do what had to be done.

Such as now. Not so much because Mickey was scared, not anymore; now it was just him being indecisive. Really indecisive, like nothing seemed to be quite right. And it made sense, at least to Debbie. It was his and Ian’s first Christmas together as a married couple. Of course he’d want to get just the right gift, if what Ian had told her about Mickey’s pre-wedding antics was accurate. Honestly, the mental image of Mickey Milkovich being a bridezilla about his very, very gay wedding was pretty damn funny. She was just sorry that she hadn’t gotten to see any of it.

“Okay,” Debbie said, after they’d gone to what felt like every damn store in the mall. The place was pretty bougie for the South Side, but better than getting some bullshit gift at Goodwill or Costco or something. “Wait—we haven’t been to this one yet.” She grabbed Mickey by his coat sleeve, leaving him no choice but to follow after her. The storefront in question was small and a bit out of the way, almost impossible to spot among all the gaudy Christmas lights that were thrown around everywhere else.

The sign said “Hazel’s Hideaways” in a fancy script, although Mickey barely had a chance to read it before they were inside. The store itself may have been small, but it was crammed full with wood carvings and wood-burned signs; wooden knick knacks of all kinds were displayed on every possible available surface.

“Whoa,” said Debbie as they both looked around. Mickey only nodded in agreement. They stepped around some of the larger pieces on the floor, careful not to fuck up anything that looked particularly expensive. Mickey had some cash left over from his “savings,” at least, so he knew he could afford to get Ian something decent. But some of this shit—like a whole ass deer that came up to Debbie’s shoulder—looked pricey as hell. Not only that, but nothing really stood out to him right away as something Ian might like, but Mickey was not going home empty-handed. Fuck that shit. He would find something for his husband, today, no matter what.

“Hi!” came a cheery voice from somewhere to Mickey’s left, causing him and Debbie both to jump and nearly land on several worryingly expensive-looking items. “Can I help you?”

A very, very short woman about ten years older than Mickey with bubblegum-pink hair sat on a stool behind the checkout counter. She grinned at them both a little too widely, which put Mickey slightly on edge. Thankfully Debbie stepped up to save him; she was way better with people than he was.

“Hi! My brother-in-law is looking for a gift for his husband—my brother,” she explained, like it was no big deal. “But we’ve been all over the place and we can’t seem to find anything that’s just right.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ve got something around there that will be just the thing!” the woman said. She was way too fucking perky, but Mickey nodded his head and clenched his jaw so he wouldn’t say anything too asshole-ish. Normally he’d already be out the door, but this was for Ian. He could put up with almost anything for Ian.

Twenty minutes later Mickey was about ready to hightail it out and call it a loss. They’d been through half of the bubblegum lady’s shit and still nothing seemed right. Even her perky smile had slowly faded—now she just looked all fucking depressed and shit that she didn’t have exactly what Mickey wanted. It wasn’t even really her fault, considering Mickey himself didn’t really know what he wanted, either.

“Hey, Mickey, what about this?” Debbie asked, holding up some weird-looking wooden circle thing. He put down the deer he’d been staring at for the last few minutes and walked over to her, frowning as he tried to figure out what it even was.

“The fuck is it?” he finally asked, giving up.

“That,” said bubblegum lady, “is a family tree wreath. I can customize it with different family members’ names, birthdays, wedding dates…” She gave Mickey a knowing wink and a glance at his wedding ring. He didn’t blush, but yeah, it might have been a near thing.

Debbie clasped her hands together and grinned. “That’s perfect! Ian would love it, seriously.”

“Yeah?” He glanced over at her, and she nodded. Mickey knew how much Ian’s family meant to him. And it also meant that Mickey could have his name right there next to Ian’s, permanently, with their wedding date and everything. And sure, it seemed cheesy and fucking kitschy as hell, but he knew Ian was gonna light up like the goddamn Christmas tree they’d all put up in the living room when he saw the thing.

“All right, little red, you’re the one who knows all five million Gallagher birthdays,” he said. Debbie beamed and gave him a big hug, which only made Mickey roll his eyes, even as he gave her a reluctant pat on the back. These Gallaghers were making him a sensitive bitch. But maybe that was okay once in a while. Not that he’d ever admit to it out loud.

—

Christmas morning dawned cold and bright, the weak sunlight shining right through the tiny opening in Mickey and Ian’s curtains. Mickey could have gone back to sleep, at least for a little while, except for the fact that Franny came barrelling into their room, crowing, “Presents, Uncle Ian! Uncle Mickey!” She jumped up and down, beaming with excitement. “Christmas presents!”

“Your mom up yet?” Mickey asked, barely half-awake. Nothing against the kid, but he’d rather get more sleep, Christmas morning or no. But the little girl was determined, climbing clumsily onto the bed and starting to jump on the mattress.

“She said no presents till everyone’s awake,” Franny told him. “Uncle Ian, wake up!”

Ian grumbled and felt around for the sweater he’d apparently tossed onto the floor in the middle of the night, but still managed to give her a tired smile. “We’ll be up in a minute, okay, Fran?” he told her. “Go get Uncle Carl and Uncle Liam up, how’s that sound?”

Franny giggled, jumping one more time and landing on them both in the biggest hug she could manage. Mickey groaned, the air practically punched out of his lungs, but Ian just laughed at him, the fucker. Then Franny bounced off the bed and scampered out of their room as quickly as she’d run in, calling out for the other Gallagher brothers as she raced down the hall.

Ian said something into his pillow as he rolled over. “What’s that, mumbles?” Mickey asked, shoving Ian onto his back, heart nearly skipping a beat at the sleepy smile his husband gave him.

“Merry Christmas, Mickey,” Ian said, hand going to the back of Mickey’s neck and pulling him into a soft kiss.

“Yeah, yeah, Merry Christmas, Red,” said Mickey, ruffling Ian’s hair to make his bedhead even worse. Not that Ian seemed to mind, though. “Better get up if we want first dibs at coffee.”

Ian shook his head. “It’s Christmas, Mick, you’re supposed to have cocoa, not coffee.” He said it like it should be obvious. Mickey didn’t bother reminding him that his and Ian’s understanding of the holiday were very different—but if his husband said cocoa, then that was what they’d do. Little domestic bitches, indeed.

Mickey had expected Christmas morning with the Gallaghers to be chaotic, and he was absolutely right. Everyone in the house was milling around the kitchen, Debbie handing out mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows in them, the younger kids ducking under arms as the older Gallagher siblings tried not to spill whatever breakfast they’d managed to scrounge up. Sandy had Franny sitting in her lap and was trying to tame the little girl’s ginger flyaways. Debbie leaned over and gave both of them a loud kiss on the cheek, earning her a giggle from Franny and a soft smirk from Sandy. It was the sappiest look Mickey had ever seen on his cousin’s face, which…well. In Mickey’s own experience, it definitely meant something, coming from a Milkovich.

Finally they were all gathered in the living room, unwrapping gifts and tossing the leftover wrapping paper every which way. Organized chaos—well, disorganized, much as Debbie tried to keep it contained, at least to start with—especially where the kids’ presents were involved. Debbie was the kind of mom who clearly spared no expense when it came to her kid, not to mention Tami and Lip on the other side of the room getting pictures of Fred “opening” his gifts. What that really meant was just Lip holding the baby’s hand pulling paper off some box, but even Ian thought it was cute enough that he took pictures on his phone of every one.

“Here,” Mickey said to Ian as they sat on the couch, squished in next to Debbie and Sandy, watching Franny play with her new Easy Bake oven knock-off. It wasn’t plugged in, thank fuck, but that didn’t stop her from going through all the pieces and parts with ridiculous levels of enthusiasm. Debbie had mentioned to Mickey during their shopping expedition that Sandy wanted to get the kid a BB gun—it wasn’t a bad idea, in Mickey’s opinion, although personally he thought they oughta wait until she was at least six—but that Debbie had vetoed it quite adamantly. Maybe some toy guns were a better idea to start with so she could understand gun safety, at least until she was a little older.

Ian was in the middle of fixing the watch he’d gotten Mickey; he insisted on setting it to the same time as his own, so they wouldn’t have to argue about who was late and who was early. “Oh, shit, I hadn’t even seen this,” Ian said, his eyes lighting up. “Your watch is good to go, by the way.” Not that he bothered handing it over to Mickey, though, as Ian was already pulling the paper off of his gift. Mickey felt his stomach twist almost in a knot—it wasn’t stupid, he reminded himself, it was thoughtful—and Ian’s face split into a wide grin, almost looking astonished as he realized what he was holding. He traced the burned-in names of each of his siblings, ending with his own, his fingers lingering on Mickey’s name and their wedding date.

“Holy shit,” Ian said under his breath, his voice sounding exactly like when he’d turned around in their shared prison cell and seen Mickey standing behind him for the first time. “Mick, this is…” But apparently words weren’t enough, because he leaned over and kissed Mickey, both hands coming up to cup his face. “I fuckin’ love you.”

“Fuckin’ love you, too,” Mickey said, and kissed his husband again. “Debbie helped me pick it out, by the way.”

Ian reached over and gave Debbie a hug behind Mickey’s back. “Thanks for giving my husband a hand, Debs.” His sister grinned at him and elbowed Mickey with a conspiratorial smile before Sandy pulled her into her lap. Franny hopped up into Debbie’s lap, too, causing Sandy to laugh and let out an exaggerated groan. Carl was standing nearby, snapping pictures of them all on his phone with a look of glee.

Maybe there was something to this whole Christmas spirit thing after all, Mickey thought, Ian finally putting the watch on Mickey’s wrist himself. Because as they sat on the couch, surrounded by the people they loved, snow falling outside the windows, Mickey felt happier than he could ever fucking remember.

#leinth writes fic #shameless #debbie gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #sandy milkovich #franny gallagher #sebbie #gallavich #this is so late for the season but i hope you enjoy it lola! thank you so much for being so patient <3

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