Helloo Whenever Youre Free Can You Write Something About Reader Being Daryls Girlfriend And Negan Takes

helloo whenever youre free can you write something about reader being daryls girlfriend and negan takes an interest towards her (like with olivia) and takes her with him maybe she becomes one of negans wife and he kisses her infront of daryl but both of them know they cant do anything shortly after they escape together… just curious about your thoughts!! <3

Word count: 2,373

Warnings: Reader is forced to be with Negan so.. there's that. (Not SA, just in general.) Also violence and profanity, of course.

Note: I haven't written for Negan before so I hope this feels genuine to his character!

        Every time he touched you, you cringed. He'd go to plant a kiss on you, you turned away. His hands were inescapable, as were his words. 

        "You're mine now, sweetheart." He'd say in your ear. Your chest would feel hot and tight, as if at any moment you'd simply explode. But you couldn't fight back, you couldn't swear or cry. No, that would only hurt the other man, the one you truly loved. The one you wanted to be with. The one who was being held in a cell probably descending into insanity with that god awful song playing on repeat. Sometimes at night, when The Sanctuary was quiet enough, you could hear it playing ever so faintly. That was when you'd cry. When you were around no one else and it was safe.

        You'd often think back to those sweet, tender moments you had with him.

        "Quit lookin' at me like that." He'd say.

        "Like what?" You'd giggle.

        "That."

        The other wives would tell you all the time that it wasn't worth it to think anymore, not about the past. You were his now, and his alone. There was no escape, no hope for return, only him, only Negan. They told you to just enjoy it, that you had it better than anyone else in The Sanctuary, or anyone in the communities they exploited.

        That wasn't an option for you, though. You needed that hope, those sparking glimpses of what you had, or everything would just be dark.

        "Hey there." Negan grinned from behind you, where you had been leaning your forearms on the counter, head hanging low. Your hair cascaded around you, a messy curtain shielding you from the room around you. "What do ya say we.. Go out?"

        You turned your head a little, not turning to face him but enough to acknowledge him.

        "Yeah, like, a date!" He chuckled enthusiastically. 

        "A date." You scoffed.

        "Well, that's what husbands and wives do, right?"

        "Yeah." You said lowly, voice laced with sorrow and defeat.

        It irked him the way he could give you the best life out of anyone you or he knew, aside from his other wives, but somehow you still managed to take it for granted. He had a plan, though, that he was sure would scare you into obedience. He wanted to treat you well, as he did all the wives, but his sympathy only went so far. What he wanted above all else was submission. He could never love you or anyone the way he loved Lucille, and since he could never get her back, he'd simply collect the pretty girls he came across like trophies.

        "Well, what the fuck are we waitin' for, my beloved?" He chuckled, sarcasm oozing from his tongue. "Let's get movin'! Got somethin' real special planned for you."

        Your heart sank a little. He was a charismatic man, but he only showed this much excitement when he expected to bring misery on someone else.

        "We're on easy street         And it feels so sweet"

        "Now this, darlin', I think you'll really like." Negan said with that shit eating grin that dug under your skin and made your stomach churn.

        "'Cause the world is 'bout a treat         When you're on easy street"

He never took his eyes off of you as he gleefully reached for the thick metal door and pulled it open. Darkness leaked out. It felt like the shadows were slithering across the floor and reaching for your feat, ready to wrap around your ankles and tug you in.

        "And we're breaking out the good champagne         We're sitting pretty on the gravy train"

        "Well, go on. After you." He urged you, holding his hand out and stepping to the side like the doorman at a fancy hotel. You swallowed a dry gulp and sucked in a breath of bravery. Had you not been good enough? Was it your turn to be in a cell?

        "And when we sing every sweet refrain repeats         Right here on easy street"

  You stepped slowly, one foot after the other, closing your fists and digging your nails into your palms in hopes the pain would wake you from this nightmare. When you walked in, Negan stepped in behind you. Your eyes didn't adjust well.

        "Well, come on tough guy. Don't be shy." He said into the darkness. It took a while but a shadowy mass seemed to rise in the corner. As it drew closer to you and the light trickled in over its face you gasped.

        "Daryl." You covered your mouth. Your eyes watered at the sight of him. His skin was caked in sweat and dirt but not enough to cover the bruises and cuts that littered his face and circled around his eyes.

        He looked so miserable. Your chest ached more than it had the entire time you had been there.

        You went to step forward and embrace him but Negan wrapped an arm over your chest and pulled your back into him. 

        "Aht-aht-aht... Don't forget. You're mine now." He whispered in your ear, just loud enough for Daryl to hear. Daryl stepped forward but Negan held his bat out against his chest. "I wouldn't do that." He taunted. "Anyways, I didn't bring her all the way over here just to check out your studio suite. Come on, let's all go for a little walk, shall we?"

        Negan walked with his hand around your arm, keeping you close to him and distant from Daryl who trailed behind the two of you. He took you out to an empty courtyard where a small table was set with some wine and a meal on each side. Two chairs were pulled out for you and Negan and his men stood against the surrounding walls to intervene if Daryl acted up.

        "Have a seat." He told you as he set you in one of the chairs. "You," he looked to Daryl, pointing at him with Lucille. "Stand right there."

        Negan took the seat across from you and admired the setup before him. 

        "My, my. Isn't this nice, darlin'?" He asked you. You were at a loss for words. You just sat across from him uncomfortably. "Don't be rude." He snapped.

        You nodded. "It's nice." You croaked. All you wanted to do was cry.

        "Good. Now, dig in. Don't let my hard work go to waste." He ordered. You glanced over at Daryl. "Don't look at him."

        You pulled in a breath and it came back out shakily. You slowly reached for the silverware and began picking at the food, taking tiny bites. You felt nauseated.

        "Now, is this a date, or is this a date?" Negan chuckled, a mouth full of food. Food that was taken from your people, food that they starved to give him.

        You didn't respond. You couldn't. His silverware clanked as he dropped it on his plate. A frustrated sigh escaped him -- or rather -- he pushed a sigh out to be sure you'd hear his frustration. 

        "(Y/N), dear, why don't ya come over here and sit on my lap?" He asked. You froze. Absolutely the fuck not. But, did you have a choice? "Don't keep me waiting. You don't want to keep me waiting."

        You'd never met someone who could be so happy yet so menacing. 

        You stood slowly, reluctantly approaching him at the speed of a snail, savoring every moment where he wasn't touching you.

        He pushed his chair back to make room for you and welcomed you onto his lap. You felt your body shrivel up as he ran a hand over your back and brushed your hair with his fingers. With your back turned to him you were able to sneak a glance toward Daryl. Your heart just shattered more. He looked so pained seeing you touched by another man, especially against your will. Maybe he could handle it if you decided to want someone else, maybe he could stomach that. But watching you endure psychological torture was too much to bare.

        "Turn this way." Negan coaxed, pulling your thighs to the side to spin you. Now your body faced Daryl, but your face didn't because Negan had a gentle yet firm hold of your jaw and he was turning your face to him.

        He leaned in slowly and connected his lips with yours. You went rigid, frozen solid. You couldn't escape his kiss this time. Any resistance would have been a greenlight to his soldiers to hurt Daryl even worse.

        Daryl couldn't take anymore though. He'd be beaten to death if it meant he didn't have to see that anymore.

        "You bastard." He growled as he went to lunge forward. His reaction was expected, though. Negan's men were on him in the blink of an eye, dragging him away as he tugged and yanked, trying to free himself from their grasp.

        Negan scooted you off him and stood up. You couldn't take your eyes off of your man, your best friend, your rock. Daryl.

        "That is a tragedy." Negan shook his head, feigning disappointment, as if that wasn't exactly what he expected to happen. "Teach him." Was all he had to say for his men to initiate a brutal attack. Daryl got a few good punches in. He always put up a good fight, part of the reason Negan wanted him to surrender so bad. If he could break such a wild beast, he'd have the best addition to his army he'd ever seen.

        "No!" You shrieked. You tried to run for him but Negan grabbed you around the waist. You collapsed to the ground, desperately reaching for Daryl as the surrounding attackers got the better of him. When they had him on the ground they started kicking and didn't stop. You cringed at each painful grunt Daryl uttered as Negan dragged your sobbing frame away from the scene.

        Negan was gone for the day, most likely out terrorizing someone you loved back at Alexandria. Sherry, another one of Negan's stolen wives, walked up and placed a hand on your shoulder. You hadn't eaten in days, barely drank water, rarely spoke. You were torn to pieces, replaying every strike his men struck on Daryl, every sound he made, wondering if he was alive.

        Part of you hoped they'd just put him out of his misery. If there really was no hope, at least you could believe he wasn't suffering anymore.

        "Hey." She said softly. Of all the wives, you related to her the most. Dwight was her real husband, before Negan took her from him. She knew what you were feeling, at least to some extent.

        "Hey." You managed.

        "It's time." She told you. You gave her a questioning look. "Come."

        You followed her out of the home and through the Sanctuary to the building where they kept their prisoners. She brought you to his door. His door. You were sure she brought you to say goodbye, that he wouldn't be around much longer.

        "You can go now. Don't let anyone see." She said quickly before she turned and ran away.

        "Wh -- Sherry! Wait!" You called after her.

        "Just go! The door's unlocked!" She turned to you one last time before she disappeared. She needed not say more. You did wonder if it was a test, but if it was, it was a test you'd gladly fail for even a glimpse of hope.

        You tugged his door open and called his name. "Daryl?"

        He stood quickly, looking behind you for Negan or other Saviors. 

        "Just me. Come on. We have to go now." You urged. You took his hand and pulled him out of the cell, looking around for a way out.

        "C'mon." He told you, tugging you in another direction as if he knew where he was going. The sounds of Saviors echoed from somewhere. He tugged you into a room and shut the door behind him, frantically searching around. 

        "There." You whispered, pointing at a pile of clothes with his vest on top.

        He swiftly changed into his old clothes and out of the grimy white sweat suit they had made him wear before. You grabbed a jar of peanut butter and held it out to him. He dug his fingers in and ate the entire contents in just a few bites. When he finished he wiped his hands clean on his old sweats before peaked out of the door. The coast was clear, and it was time.  He tugged you along, wasting no time at all. He beat a single Savior to death with a pipe in fear he'd ruin your escape. 

        As if God was on your side that day, you two stumbled across his bike. There it was, it was either sign this was an elaborate setup or that you were really escaping together. He threw a leg over the seat and you quickly climbed on behind him. He cranked it and revved the engine. You wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly, resting your face against his back as he sped away.

        You two rode for an hour before he pulled off to the side of the road. The two of you stepped off the bike.

        "What are you doing? We have to go! They'll catch us--"

        He cut you off with his hands, gripping either side of your face and slapping his lips into yours. You let go of any anxiety you had felt and just melted into his lips. 

Mrs. Shelby

(Tommy Shelby x f!Reader)

Gif by @peakyblindersdaily

Summary: Tommy is feeling sentimental and thinks about the first time he met his wife and the things they have been through together.

Word Count: 3103

Warnings: just some injuries, nothing too harsh, but if I missed anything please let me know and I'll add it.

A/N: Hey loves, this is the first fic I have worked on in quite a long time. I just ran out of motivation and felt like everything I wrote wasn't worth anything. I read through it for mistakes but I might have missed something so I apologize. I feel really good about this. Fluffy Tommy is my favorite and loved-up Tommy is needed every once and in while, so I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think! <3

No one ever believed Thomas Shelby of Watery Lane would ever get married, let alone himself. He thought he would go through life alone with only his horses, money, and sometimes his brothers by his side, and he had come to terms with it, swallowed that fate, and decided to meet it head-on. But as he stood in the doorway and watched his wife rock his newborn daughter to sleep, he now couldn't imagine his life going any other way.

He vividly remembers the first day he met you. It was three years ago, and you looked like a fish out of water standing in the middle of the arena’s horse stables in a pretty light pink dress. Your hair was windswept and mud-covered your shoes.

“Are you lost?” He had asked you.

You jumped at the sudden appearance of another person. You looked up at him, a blush slowly painting your cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”

Tommy had laughed and walked over to you. He could now see the remnants of horse feed on your hands. It’s no wonder the horse was staying close to you, patiently waiting for more. “Only a little.”

Turns out your father had told you to go to some office and ask for paperwork regarding one of your father's new horses and expected you to find it with little to no direction. It was your first time at the arena and you had walked yourself into a circle. After giving up, you decided to just stay with the horses. Months later you told him he was your knight in a well-dressed suit that without him you would still be there living amongst the horses, sleeping on hay bales, and eating sweet feed.

"I'm (Y/N)." You jutted your hand out in the space between you. Your nails were a glossy pink proving you were a woman who kept up with the latest fashion trends. Ada talked endlessly about the girls in London with their red nails and ever-shortening dresses.

"Tommy." He replied, shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy.”

Tommy remembers that your hand was freezing even though it was unnaturally warm that day. He also recalls that when you said his name, it would never sound as sweet coming from anyone else.

He helped you find the office and retrieve the paperwork for your father. The ladies in the office wanted to brush you off telling you it would take at least three hours to get there because of some nonsensical reason they made up on the spot. Their tune changed quickly when they realized who you were with; the paperwork somehow magically appeared under a stack of folders.

"Who exactly are you again?" You asked him when one of the ladies all but shoved the papers into your hand.

Tommy shook his head," No one important." He placed his hand on the small of your back guiding you in the direction of the bar. "Let me buy you a drink."

One drink turned into three and small talk turned into a deep conversation getting to know each other, the paperwork had long been forgotten about and was serving as a placemat for sandwiches and a foundation for a relationship that means more to Tommy than anything in the world.

"Darling, I didn't know you were home."

Tommy's attention snaps from his memories back to you. Even though you greeted him with a bright smile, he could see how tired you are. You're standing with your shoulders curved inwards as if the lack of sleep is weighing you down. He tried to take over tending to the baby as much as he could to allow you the rest you desperately needed and deserved, but there's only so much a father can do compared to a mother.

"I just walked in." He walks over to his wife and gently takes his daughter in his arms, careful not to wake her. She is so small and at just a month old, she already looks just like you with the same color hair and big eyes. He smiles down at her and places a small kiss on her forehead before laying her in her crib in the nursery.

He follows you to your room and immediately pulls you into him and you respond by wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your head in the crook of his neck. He can feel as you start to plant kisses along his neck and up to his jawline. Turning his head, he captures your lips with his letting a quiet moan escape as he deepens the kiss. He cups your heated cheeks with his hands and walks you to the rocking chair by the window where he sits and pulls you into his lap. Every kiss he shares with you always feels as good as the first, and no matter how many times he kisses you, he will never grow tired of it. It's like he is dying of thirst and you're a never-ending spring.

"Tommy, why are we still out here?" You tugged on his hand trying to get him to move his feet towards the door. "The film is about to begin. Let's go."

He huffed a breath of laughter and told you, "Give me a second, woman. I need to finish this cigarette."

You pouted and stood in front of him blinking up at him as though staring at him will make him smoke faster. "I don't want to miss the beginning. Emma said it's the best part."

Tommy dropped his cigarette on the pavement and snuffed it out with his shoe. “Sweetheart, if the beginning of the film is the best part, I don’t think it’s going to be worth watching.”

He laughed as you rolled your eyes and drag him inside the theatre.

The film, Tommy remembers, was as bland as expected. There were a couple of moments when Tommy looked over at you, and it seemed as though you had dozed off. You held his hand throughout the entire movie never once letting go.

“Okay, you were right. That film was horrible.” You blurted out. The film was finally over and the two of you were sitting in his car while the radio quietly played a song he didn’t recognize. It had just finished raining by the looks of the wet pavement and humid air making the car windows foggy.

“I told you.” Tommy leaned over and pinched your cheek.

“Oh hush.” You swatted his hand away but he caught it and kissed the back of it, and you watched him as he kissed each individual knuckle. “The company was worth it. I have to admit that."

“Glad to hear I was up to your standards,” Tommy whispered and continued his ascent up your arm with his mouth. He stopped at your collarbone, looking up to gaze into your eyes, and being met with your eyes shining bright as though they were lit on fire.

You started to lean forward and Tommy met you halfway closing the distance between you. The kiss was soft in the beginning, and you tasted like heaven and mint. His rough hands brushed your cheeks and slowly found themselves buried in your hair while yours were fisted in his jacket. He let out a small moan when you deepened the kiss with your tongue. He had been dreaming about kissing you since he met you in the stable all beautiful and lost.

Never breaking the kiss, you slid closer and somehow ended up in his lap causing you to be pressed against his chest because of the close quarters of the car.

Hands were everywhere teasing and taunting as the seconds ticked by. One second they were in your hair, around his neck, or under his shirt scratching thin lines onto his stomach, and then the next second they were somewhere else entirely.

When you finally parted for air, you rested your forehead against his trying to catch your breath, and after a moment you kissed his nose and muttered, "I dare say the company exceeded expectations."

After that first kiss, Tommy would find any excuse in the world to see you, touch you, kiss you. Anything as long as you two were together. Now He is watching as you try to reach the bottle of whiskey stored on top of Tommy's wardrobe. He tries to hide his laugh when he has to resort to standing on your tip-toes.

"Don't laugh at me!" You quip even though Tommy can see you're smiling. You almost had it in your hand but your index finger hit the bottle and pushed it back an inch. He heard you mutter a curse under your breath. This time he couldn't hide his laughter. "You know you could help me instead of laughing at your poor wife."

"But you're doing so good, Baby."

The look you gave him could whither a thorn bush but it makes him laugh more. When you finally get your hands on it, you pour him a glass and all but shove it in his face. "I should spit in it."

He takes the whiskey, letting his fingers brush yours, "It would make it taste sweeter."

You shake your head and sit on the edge of the bed. Normally, you would have a drink with him, you never being one to turn away whiskey, but since you're nursing, the strongest thing you partake in is tea. "How was the office? Did Arthur come by? Polly is really worried about him and frankly, I am too."

Tommy takes a small sip and shakes his head, "He hasn't and probably won't be for a while. Says he is hearing fucking voices again, and Linda spouting shit about how the Italians are coming back to kill them all."

No matter how many times Tommy tells them Luca Changretta is dead and not coming to seek revenge on the Shelby Family, there will always be that fear it will happen again. He went to the ends of the earth to ensure your safety and he will continue to do so.

You nod your head agreeing but he doesn't miss how you always tense up at the mention of the Italians, the Black Hand, and the havoc they brought to Small Heath. Sometimes he will catch you rubbing your shoulder where there is a scar to remind you and him of that trauma and the vow Tommy made to never let it happen again.

He still has nightmares about that day. There are many mornings where the sun will rise and you have been long awake from holding him and reassuring him that you are alive and safe, not back in that hospital room or trapped in a random house being beaten black and bloody.

"Where is she!"

“Tommy, she’s in here.”

He turned at the sound of his Aunt Polly’s voice. He stormed towards her ready to shove her aside so he could see you. He needed to lay eyes on you, touch you, anything.

“Wait a minute, now.” Polly put her arm out, stopping him before he could even get to the doorway. “I want you to be prepared for what you’re gonna see. They messed her up good, Tommy.”

He could see the sadness and worry in her eyes and when he gripped her arm, giving her a comforting squeeze, tears gathered and threatened to fall but she stepped away before he could see it fall.

The first thing Tommy saw was the sun. The curtains were pulled as far apart as they would go leaving no darkness.

Later he would learn that was one of the first things you asked for when you woke up. All you wanted was your husband and light. The doctor suggested it was because you were kept in a dark room that it triggered a need for bright light and to be able to see everything. Long after the incident you always had to have a light on, even when you were able to finally sleep. Sometimes he would find you in the middle of the night sitting in Charlie’s room, with as much light on so he wouldn't wake, just watching him breathing and sleeping while tears absentmindedly ran down your cheeks.

The second thing he saw was your back facing him. You were laying on your side curled into a fetal position. Your hair was tied up allowing him to see a bruise forming on your neck. Anger began to fill Tommy as took stock in other bruises along your arm that was peeking out of the blanket. You also had a large bandage wrapped around your shoulder. He took a cautious step forward to not wake you if you were asleep which he figured you were because you didn't acknowledge anyone had come into the room. His heart moved up into his throat as he got closer. He was torn between wanting to wrap you in his arms and keep you there forever and going to finish the job he started before coming to the hospital, but he knew he wanted to take his time with the bastard who did this to you, so he walked over and sat in the chair by the bed.

After a few seconds, he heard you whisper his name. Your voice was cracked and dry sounding as if you hadn't drunk water in a week. “Tommy?”

He looked over and saw you were still facing the window. “Yes, Baby, it's me.”

Tommy saw as you tried to roll over and sit up, all the pain and concentration painted on your face. Knowing you weren't likely to ask for help, he shot out of the chair and guided you as gently against the pillows as he could. Your skin was hot but dull like all life had been sucked out. You had a black eye and your lip was cut, making a thin, jagged line across your cheek. Changretta was going to pay for that too. He’ll feel every bruise and scratch tenfold.

When you got settled and comfortable, he smoothed the hair out of your eyes, and careful of the bruises and cuts, he kissed your forehead. You shifted over so he could sit on the edge of the bed and be as close as possible.

His left hand made its way into yours, your wedding bands clinking at the contact, echoing in the too-quiet room. You hadn’t been married for long; your wedding flowers were still drying on the kitchen counter because you refuse to get rid of them because one of the housekeepers told you of a way to preserve them.

Tommy remembers thinking that it’s a strange feeling to know that even though his world was at a standstill in this hospital room with his wife who was shot, cut, and bruised essentially because of him. He could still hear the hustle and bustle of the hallway and the chatter of the nurses and the rest of his family. He is sure your family is on the way from London. Polly said she would call them after talking to him.

After what felt like an eternity of silence but could really have only been a few seconds you whispered, “They had Charlie, Tom.”

“I know.”

Changretta called you while you were at work telling you to meet him outside the Garrison, and if you told anyone, especially him, he would hurt Charlie. He put Charlie on the line proving that he was serious. You dropped everything and left without a second thought.

He saw the flash of fear in your eye when the fact settled over you. “Where is he?” Your voice was coming on in a panic. “Is he here? Please tell me he’s okay.”

Tommy pulled you gently into his arms to try and calm you down. He felt you flinch as his arm grazed your shoulder bandage but you melted into arms and rested your head in the crook of his neck. “Baby, he is just fine, all safe and sound at the house with Ada and Johnny Dogs.”

You nodded and gripped his shirt tighter, and he could feel hot tears soaking through his shirt.

Even though Charlie isn’t biologically yours, you have always treated him like he is. On the side of your bed, you keep a photograph of the three of them taken at your wedding. Charlie had his arms around your neck smiling with cake smeared across his mouth and nose, Tommy was actually smiling for once, and you were laughing because Charlie tried to smear the icing on Tommy’s suit jacket. You always say it’s your favorite photo because it was a time where everyone was truly happy, and it was a day full of love.

From the first time you met his son, you welcomed him with open arms, and Charlie did just the same, now even calling you mom. You try to keep Grace’s memory alive and even though you never met her, you talk to Charlie as if you were best friends telling him that she loves him and always will and her photo is still up in the house so Charlie and he could see her. You said her picture deserves a place in the home because if she means a great deal to him and Charlie, she means a great deal to you.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Mr. Shelby?” You nudge him with your bare foot trying to get his attention. “You got quiet on me for a second.”

He laughs, leaning down and catching your foot and massaging it. “Well Mrs. Shelby, I happen to be thinking about my beautiful wife and how much I love her.”

“Wow. She’s a lucky lady.” You lay back, letting your head hit the pillows while he drops your leg and makes his way over to you. “Tell me about her.”

Tommy kneels over you, placing his arms beside your head, and kisses your lips after each word. “Well, she's beautiful.” kiss “funny.” kiss “Smart.” kiss “caring and kind.” kiss “wonderful with my children.” kiss “and somehow she puts up with me and loves me.”

He ends with a deep kiss and when you break apart, he rests his head on your forehead.

“She sounds truly wonderful.” You reach up and brush a piece of hair out of his face. “You know, her husband sure is lucky to have a gal like her.”

Tommy laughs and intertwines your hands, kissing your hand. “Indeed he is.”

Daryl X Reader Request from @zombie-in-a-ball-gag: I was wondering if you could to a little thing of daryl and a female mute reader? If you can, maybe selective mutism, so there can be some trust building themes and things! Just fluff, and two idiots in love Plot: Daryl and Reader are on a three day run to a city just over 8 hours away. Someone told Rick about a huge orchard and with food running dangerously low, he couldn't risk passing up the opportunity. He sent You and Daryl because you're both fast, sneaky, smart, and great fighters. He also couldn't afford to leave for that long with trying to keep all the communities at peace and above water. A storm blew in an the rain got too heavy to keep driving, so he pulls over at the first old cabin he see's and you two stay there for the night. Era: post-negan, Rick trying to keep open trade between all the communities and build the bridge and all that jazz. Right before he blows himself up. Themes: Trust building, fluff, friendly Daryl Warnings: You have a sad backstory, without giving any spoilers. Also, probably cussing. As always. Word count:3,265 Note: There's a ton of Daryl dialogue and reader just nodding or shaking her head. Not sure how I feel about this one. I think I could have made it more interesting and fluffy? I might write a different one if I decide I don't like this one. Anyways, lmk what you think please!

        Daryl lit the fire in the old fireplace, rubbing his hands together and holding them out to soak up the heat. It was dark and rather chilly with the roaring storm outside. It had blown in fast, and the torrential downpour was too much to drive in. With slow squeaky windshield wipers and dim headlights that desperately needed replacing, there was no other option. Daryl pulled over to the first cabin he saw and rushed you inside, leaving the two of you to spend the night in an old dusty cabin that smelled like mildew and aged wood.

        "Should start warmin' up in a bit." He told you, standing up and looking around. He didn't bother waiting for a response, you wouldn't have anything to say. Nobody had ever heard you talk. I mean, sure, people did when yo were younger, before the turn. You weren't deaf like Connie. You thought it was probably just a trauma response. The day you came home to find your fiancé hunched over your two year old daughter, blood pooling on the ground... You could just never bring yourself to speak after that. When you heard your voice, you heard goofy laughs with your baby, sweet talks in bed with your man, phone calls with family and friends. Nowadays there was never anything worth talking about. Every time you tried to speak you were flooded with sweet memories and clouded by the terrible image of your undead lover eating your baby, your world. It was like this large painful lump in your throat had made a home there and prevented any sound from coming out.

        Nobody actually even knew your name. You never told them. They usually just called you Jane, as in Jane Doe. Daryl didn't mind you at all, though. In fact, he was quite fond of you. You were pretty, you could hold your own, and you were also... pretty. So pretty. He couldn't keep his eyes off you some days. He was never sure if you noticed, and you really didn't. That was really only because you tried your best not to look at him. You were helplessly attracted to him, so anything to avoid giving that away, you did.

        "Still got them bars in your bag?" He asked you, referring to the protein bars Carol sent you with. You opened your bag and tossed him one, opening another one for yourself.

        The two of you ate in silence. He tossed you a water bottle from his own bag, and you drank.

        Then, it was just the two of you, left to occupy yourselves. He spent an hour or so sharpening arrows and tweaking bits and pieces on his bow. You mostly just laid on the couch and picked at your nails, or scabs, or stared up at the ceiling, watching the spiders in their webs. 

        His mind was plagued with questions. Every time he was alone with you he found himself wondering the same things. Where were you from? What was your story? Why didn't you speak? What was your name?

        He got frustrated with he lack of answers or anything else to stimulate his mind and distract him. He sighed and pushed himself back and forth in the old dingy rocking chair.

        "Need to find you a notepad or somethin' like Connie has." He spoke.

        You looked over at him.

        "Just sayin', silence is deafening, y'know?"

        You just looked back up at the ceiling.

        "What about.. Okay." He sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. You looked back at him. "What if I asked you... yes or no questions. You can just nod or shake your head." He sounded hopeful and bored. You almost wanted to laugh at his eagerness, like a little kid trying to get his grandpa to tell him stories from the war. In reality, he just refused to sit there in silence all night.

        You didn't answer, because, of course not, but you just watched him curiously, not giving any indication of refusal.

        "Alright. Do you like fishing?"

        You furrowed your eyebrows. 

        "Right. You don't fish." He nodded. "Stupid question. What about.. Okay. Have you ever talked?"

        You gave a single nod after a moment of deciding if you wanted to tell him that or not.

        "Do you know why you stopped?"

        The question was like a dagger in your chest. You decided you didn't wanna play anymore. You just sighed and turned your attention back to the ceiling. 

        He didn't press further. He just stood up and started to wander, checking all the cabinets in the kitchen for anything useful. He found one thing, a can of Spam. 

        "You like Spam?" He asked, walking back into the living room. You glanced over at him and shook your head. You weren't hungry. He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He said as he dug into the canned meat.

        "Y'know, I had a friend. Her name was Beth. She died, and uh, I didn't talk much after that. It was hard to. Like my throat got all tight every time I tried." He said. "It took a while, but I got through it."

        You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to relate, hoping you'd open up some. You wished it was that easy, you really did. It was miserable having all these thoughts, needs, desires, and no way to express them.

        You knew you could speak, if you really wanted to. The problem was that you had never wanted to work hard enough to get past the lump.

        "You, uh, you're really no fun at sleepovers. Y'know that?"

        Silence. He waited a while. He wondered if he could make you laugh. He couldn't recall ever seeing you give more than a smile. He remembered the story he told Andrea all those years ago, and how it made her laugh.

        "Y'know, this one time when I was a kid. I got lost in the woods. I'm talkin' days, right. So, I gotta use the bathroom at some point. I wiped with leaves, cause I didn't have toilet paper or nothin', and turned out, it was poison ivy. I made it home eventually. Ass itched somethin' serious. I'm talkin' pullin' my underwear 'til the wedgie was so bad it gave me rug burn. Tried everything. Even took a fork outta the kitchen  and tried that. Nothin' helped."

        You were watching him now, grinning. A fork? Really? You wanted to ask if he threw it away or left it to get washed and used. He admired your smile for some time, before it faded. At least he got that.

        "My brother was in juvie back then. Dad wasn't around neither. Did I ever tell ya about the time Merle got crabs?"

        You shook your head,

        "Well, he came home one night from the bar. Passed out. Next day he couldn't stop itchin'. Come to find out, there were little bugs crawlin' around in his pubes."

        You frowned in disgust.

        "Anyways, tried to tell the dumb son of a bitch to just shave 'em off, but he didn't wanna so I had to ride with him to the free clinic to get some kinda dick shampoo. Turns out he slept with the same girl like three more times. Kept goin' back to her 'til the shampoo ran out. Guess he figured it didn't matter if he could keep washin' 'em out."

        You looked mortified.

        "Yeah, guess that wasn't funny." He agreed. "He was a nasty son of a bitch."

        You raised your eyebrows and nodded in agreement.

        "I see you hang around Connie a lot. She ever teach you any sign language?"

        You shook your head.

        "I got a book back home if ya want it."

        You shrugged. Could be nice to communicate again.

        "Looks like ya need new shoes." He commented, nodding to your feet propped up on the arm of the couch. The rubber soles were starting to detach from the shoe itself. You nodded. "Wanna stop somewhere and look?"

        You thought for a moment, nodding and shrugging at the same time, as if to say, 'Why not?'

        He sat back down in the rocking chair and rested his head back. He wasn't tired really. It wasn't even that late. The rain just made it seem darker than it was. He listened to the crackling fire and the windy storm outside, the occasional thunder booming around.

        He looked down at you. You seemed just as restless.

        "Wish I knew more about ya." He admitted.

        Usually he wouldn't be so forward with a pretty girl, but your constant silence made him feel like he was just talking to himself. He didn't have to worry about your reaction, though he often wondered what you thought of him.

        You looked at him again, curiously.

        You glanced around the room for anything you could use to tell him something about you. It could be like a game of charades.

        You noticed a map on the wall and walked over to it, pulling the large frame off the nail and walking over to him. You placed your finger on your home state to show him.

        "That's where you're from?"

        You nodded, a small, sad smile on your lips.

        "I'm from Georgia." He said. You gave an acknowledging nod.

        "Ever been to any other states?"

        You dragged your finger from your home state to  Virginia, showing him you had only been through the states that led you to wind up as one of the Saviors. Of course, you weren't one of Negan's fighters, you were just a maid on the cleanup crew. He had actually seen you a few times during his captivity at The Sanctuary. You almost looked as miserable as him.

        "Mm." He nodded with understanding.

        You set the map on the coffee table and walked around the room, looking for anything else to use as a clue. Your eye caught on a little pink bow, the kind with an elastic band that would go around a baby's head. You picked it up, eyes watering as you ran your fingers over it. You turned back to him and walked back to where he sat, holding it out to show him.

        "Ya like pink?" He asked, not quite understanding. You shook your head, trying to think of a better way to explain. Then you remembered the horizontal scar over your lower abdomen. You had your daughter via C-section.

        You lifted your shirt and pulled the waist of your jeans down slightly to expose the scar. You held the bow up again, then pointed at the scar.

        "Oh." He said lowly. "You had a daughter?"

        You nodded, still teary eyed. You took the bow to your bag, concealing it in one of the zipper pockets. You had run out of the house horrified on that awful day. You had no time to grab a memento for her, so that bow would have to serve as one.

        "I'm sorry." He told you. You just nodded in place of a thanks, wiping the tears away. You continued your search around the little cabin for clues. It was kind of fun, albeit painful. It was like a game.

        You took a little longer this time on your search, until you found a phone book. You took it and flipped open a page and walked back to him. This time he was standing up. 

        You held the book open so that he could see it, and pointed to two individual digits.

        "That's how old you are?"

        You nodded.

        "Is your name in there?"

        You shrugged and set the book down, reasoning that it'd be too much work to find it in all those pages.

        "So, you're (age), you had a daughter, and you're from (state)?"

        You nodded and smiled. This was the most you had communicated with anyone in years. It was nice.

        "Cool." He nodded with a small half smile. "You hungry?"

        You shook your head no.

        "Thirsty?"

        You waved your hand to say kind of.

        "I found some tequila in the kitchen."

        You raised your eyebrows. Now that was temptation if you ever saw it. Tequila was a luxury you hadn't come across in, well, you didn't even know how long. You nodded giddily and he huffed a silent chuckle, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of clear, liquid joy. You rushed over and grabbed it from him, twisting off the cap and taking a swig. You made a dramatic face as you shook your head. God, you didn't remember the burn being that bad.

        "Easy, tiger." He teased as he took the bottle and had some for himself.

        You smiled at him as he handed it back, the two of you taking turns until you felt that alcoholic heat in your ears and cheeks.

        "You like tequila?"

        You shurgged.

        "Just like drinkin'?"

        You nodded.

        "Good to know. If we don't finish this off we can bring it back for ya."

        You nodded and grinned. It was cute how happy you got over a simple drink, but he guessed with so little means of communication, anything was nice to take the edge off. He wondered if you felt lonely, like he often did. His was from a place of feeling misunderstood, though. Maybe it wasn't so different than being mute.

        "Is it hard?" He asked, taking a seat in the rocking chair as you sat on the coffee table just a foot away.

        You tilted your head inquisitively.

        "I mean, not bein' able to talk to nobody." He clarified.

        You nodded truthfully, looking down at the floor as you grabbed the bottle from him. 

        "Do ya remember what your voice sounds like?"

        You thought for a moment. Of course you did, that was what made it so hard. Your voice was linked to memories that you couldn't bare.

        You nodded.

        "Maybe I'll hear it one day."

        You smiled sweetly before you took a swig and passed the bottle back, nodding. Maybe he would.

        "Something on the bottle caught your eye, a little sticker stuck to the bottom. You reached over and peeled it off as he tipped it back to take a drink. It was a simple yellow smiley face. You smirked and waited for him to put the bottle down before you reached over and stuck it to his nose.

        "The hell?" He grumbled, peeling it off and looking down at it. You couldn't help the silent giggle, your shoulders rising and falling as you scrunched your nose. The little sticker just contrasted his dark, serious exterior too well.

        He noticed your silent laugh and stuck it back to his nose, smiling a little at your amusement. You reached for the bottle and had some more before you passed it back.

        "Y'think that's funny, huh?"

        You nodded, still grinning. He swished the drink around in his hand, staring at it thoughtfully. He had learned more about you in a couple of hours than anyone probably had in the years you'd been around. Still, it wasn't enough. He was greedy and he wanted more.

        He glanced around the room, the fire growing smaller making it fairly dim. He noticed a little banjo off in the corner near the couch.

        "Ya like music?"

        You nodded.

        "Rick, too. Always playin' the worst CDs he can find. Makes my ears bleed." He complained. "What about like.. drawin' or anything. Got any hobbies?"

        You shrugged. Before, you mostly just liked being a mom and watching your favorite shows. Now, you really only worked to survive, so what hobbies were there really?

        "What about church? You like that kinda thing?"

        You shook your head.

        "Yeah me neither. Never believed in it much."

        You nodded in agreement.

        "My mom did, though. Liked to read the bible. She died. When I was a kid."

        You placed a hand on his knee, letting him know you empathized.

        "Yeah. Dad was a real ass, too. Merle was all I had and he wasn't around all that much."

        You gave a sad, thin smile.

        "What about you? You had both parents?"

        You nodded.

        "Brothers? Sisters?"

        You shook your head. You were an only child.

        "Consider yourself lucky." He joked. You nodded. "Pets? Did ya have any?"

        You nodded.

        "Cat?" 

        You shook your head.

        "Dog?"

        You held up the number two with your fingers.

        "Always wanted a dog."

        You smiled. You loved your dogs.

        "Ya miss 'em? The dogs."

        You nodded.

        He yawned.

        "Ya tired yet or ya wanna keep goin'?"

        You shrugged.

        He passed you the bottle and stood up, ruffling your hair a little. You swatted his hand playfully and took a drink.

        "Gon' make sure the doors are sealed up tight." He announced, walking off to find the back door and reinforce it.

        You stood off the coffee table, the hard surface making your butt sore. You stretched and walked back to the couch. When he came back he asked, "You sleepin' there?"

        You nodded. You would offer it to him, but last time you guys had to share a sleep space he hogged the bed and snored as loud as humanly possible, so this time you were doing him no favors. He laid out some blankets he found, making a nice palette on the floor to lay on. You set the bottle on the coffee table, feeling pretty tipsy by now, and relaxed on the couch the way you had before. He laid down on his back, propping his bag under his head for comfort.

        It was silent for a while, just the two of you enjoying the sounds of rain and the flames that were slowly dying down.

        "Thanks." He spoke up. You peeked down at him from the couch. He was mostly obscured by the coffee table but you could see half of his face.  "For tellin' me all that."

        You just smiled to yourself as you turned on your side, facing away from him and curling up into the ball you usually slept in. A few minutes went by. Just  as his eyes got heavy, he heard it.

        "(Y/N)." You said. "That's my name."

Masterlist

Since I've been posting here so much, I thought I'd make a masterlist to make it easy to find one shots and chapters to full length fanfics. Will update as I can! I do feel the need to clarify that these are my own works.

Just click/tap the title or chapter! If you see a chapter that isn't underlined, it's not posted yet!

||ONESHOTS - Daryl Dixon||

Bit | The Girl in the Shack | Can't Ruin That | Arrowhead Jr | Girl of Your Dreams | The Fuck Are You Doing On His Bike? | Girl Of Your Dreams Pt.2 - NSFW/18+ | Girl of Your Dreams Pt.3 - 18+ NSFW | From the Devil Himself |

||FANFICTION: DOE EYES- Daryl Dixon||

Ch.1 - Ch.11

Ch.2 - Ch.12

Ch.3 - Ch.13

Ch.4 - Ch.14

Ch.5 - Ch.15

Ch.6 - Ch.16

Ch.7 - Ch.17

Ch.8 - Ch.18

Ch.9 - Ch.19

Ch.10 - Ch.20

||FANFICTION: MY OWN TWO HANDS - DOE EYES SEQUEL||

Ch.1 - Ch.5 - Ch.9

Ch.2 - Ch.6 - Ch.10

Ch.3 - Ch.7 - Ch.11

Ch.4 - Ch.8 - Ch.12

|| A MESS - MINI SERIES ||

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

You can also find me on:

Quotev (active)

AO3 (active)

FOR REQUESTS: Just message me or comment :) asks also enabled if you wanna use them

Her Father's Eyes | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: former friends. Mentions of drunken one night stand, tough decisions were made.

Word Count: 1,876

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST | TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

"Mabel, sweetheart, please slow down," Y/N calls after her three-year-old daughter as she runs away from her and towards the spot where they sit by the pond.  

"Picnic! Mummy! Picnic!" The toddler cheers but comes to a halt as she notices someone in their spot. 

Noticing the familiar faces surrounded by a brood of children, she adjusts the basket and blanket in her arms and takes Mabel's hand leading her to another area of the park. "Let's go find another place to sit." 

Arriving under a tree, Y/N lets go of Mabel's and sets the picnic basket on the ground. Unfolding the blanket, she lays it out on the ground and places the blanket on it before walking over to her daughter and lifting her up to place her on the blanket. 

Y/N takes out a handful of the toys she's brought with them. Mabel has a doll and a wooden horse with her that she will not leave the house without. She sits down and arranges the toys in front of Mabel. "Here you go, my love." 

"Thank you, mummy." 

"You're welcome," she smiles lovingly at her daughter, watching her play. 

The little girl bears hardly any resemblance to her. She is convinced that Mabel looks more like her father with dark hair, button nose, pouted lips and vibrant blue eyes. Those same blue eyes were one of the reasons she was hesitant to return to Small Heath. People would know with only one look at Mabel, who she belonged too. 

"Is that really you, Y/N L/N?" 

Looking up from her daughter, Y/N saw Ada standing there, clutching Karl's hand, a stunned expression on her face. She didn't believe the lone girl among the Shelby siblings would see her from where she was. 

"Ada, it's good to see you again," she says as she rises to her feet. She's immediately drawn in for a hug. "What are you doing in Small Heath? Last I heard, you were done with this place." 

"The same goes for you. I'm back for a little visit. I thought Karl would enjoy spending time with his cousins," Ada explains. "How about you? Polly told me you moved to Norwich be closer to your sister." 

"I returned a month ago to care for my mother," she says solemnly. "She became ill with a fever." 

"How is she doing?" Ada inquires. 

"She passed away 10 days ago," she replies, sadly.  

"I'm truly sorry, Y/N. She was a wonderful lady" Ada expresses her condolences. The young woman hadn't seen Y/N's mother in a long time. 

"Look, Mummy!" Mabel's enthusiastic shout cut her conversation with Ada short. She turns to the small girl who's pointing to the duck and ducklings swimming in the pond. Mabel's favourite animal, along with horses, happens to be ducks. She is completely enamoured with them. "Duckies!" 

"They're duckies," she gasps feigning excitement as she kneels back on the blanket next to her. 

"My goodness, who is this lovely little thing?" Ada asks, kneeling down to Mabel's level. When she takes a good look at the girl who looks so much like her father, she tries to hide her surprise. 

"This is Mabel, my daughter," she introduces them. "Mabel, love, this is mummy's old friend Ada and her son Karl." 

"It's lovely to meet you, Mabel," Ada smiles and holds her hand out towards Mabel. Mabel places her much smaller hand in hers and shakes it. "Karl, why don't you play with Mabel while mummy and Y/N have a little chat," Ada instructs her son as she encourages him to sit with Mabel.  

Karl nods and sits beside Mabel as she shows him her doll and wooden horse and instructs him on how to play with them. She has no idea they are related, but she is already ordering him about. She is, after all, her father's daughter. 

"Karl is growing into a handsome young man," Y/N watches the children. She last saw him during Freddie's funeral. If she remembered correctly, Karl was about two years old at the time. A few months later, she became pregnant with Mabel. 

Glancing to Ada when she doesn't say anything, she sees that her old friend's lips are pursed, eyes slightly squinted and is thinking hard about something as she watches Mabel. 

"She is beautiful Y/N," Ada finally says, having finished pondering her thoughts. "Is her father around?" 

"No..." she admits looking down at her hands resting in her lap, thinking of how her daughter was conceived during a drunken night of passion. "No, he's not around." 

"Does he know?" Ada continues to question her. Y/N goes to answer but Ada cuts her off before she can get a word out. "Of course he doesn't, other wise you'd be wearing his ring and using his last name. Does she have his last name?" 

Y/N nods. "Her name is Mabel Evelyn Shelby."  

"Will you tell him?" she asks. 

"When the time is right," she sighs knowing it was inevitable now that she was back in Small Heath. The whispers could already be heard. Whether Tommy heard them or not, she didn't know.  

"Are you living in your mum's house?" Ada asks, looking as though she's thinking up something. 

She looks at her suspiciously. "We are." 

"Well then, I'll drop by tomorrow and give you my address and telephone number that way you can call me and come visit when you're in London," Ada says as she stands to her feet. "I would love for Karl to get to know his cousin." 

"So would I," Y/N agrees, also standing to her feet.  

Ada draws her in for another hug. When she lets go, she turns to the children. "Karl, it's time to go, sweetheart. Say goodbye to Mabel." 

Y/N smiles when Karl mumbles a goodbye to his cousin. Mabel in return gives him a quick hug.  

"That she doesn't get from her father," Ada quips as Karl walks over to her.  

"I don't know. Tommy could be pretty affectionate when we were kids," she giggles thinking of how different Tommy was when they were growing up. 

Later that night, when Mabel had finally drifted off to sleep, Y/N kisses her daughter's head, whispering sweet dreams to her before leaving her bedroom.  

She moves into the kitchen and is about to start on the dishes when there is a knock on the door. She wipes her hands on the dish cloth and makes her way to the front door.  

Swinging the door open, she’s startled to find Tommy standing there, a cigarette hanging from his perfect lips and an unsure look in those eyes he shares with his daughter.  

“Tommy,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper but Tommy hears it. 

“I know it’s late, but can I come in,” he asks, his smooth voice sounds uncertain, which isn’t what you heard often when he speaks.  

She nods, moving out of the doorway to let him in. Once he’s inside, she closes the door and turns around to face him. She’s unable to look at him as she anxiously messes with the hem of her blouse.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, his voice going from unsure, to frustrated and impatient.  

“Tell you what?” She asks, playing ignorant. 

He frowns, “Do you think I’m daft?” 

“Not at all,” she answers. Tommy had always been a smart one, even when he was being stupid.  

“Then why didn’t you fucking tell me I have a daughter?” 

“Because I knew as soon as you found out you’d have us married and playing house while you were still in love with that traitor.” 

“I didn’t love her, she was a distraction from you,” he admits. 

“That’s lovely, ain’t it?” She says sarcastically. “The boy I grew up loving, fucked a traitorous spy so he could distract himself from me.” 

“Didn’t work though, did it?” He scoffs. 

“Did you come here to argue about our past or ask about Mabel?” She questions him, her own patience wearing thin. 

“Her names Mabel?” He asks. “After your grandmother.” 

She nods remembering the woman she named her daughter after. Her grandma Mabel was the sweetest woman anyone would ever meet. She was always baking something sweet to hand out to the neighbourhood kids, crocheting blankets for expecting mothers and visiting the hospital to read to the sick children. Everybody loved her and she loved everyone. 

“What’s the real reason you didn’t tell me about her?” he asks, less heated then a minute ago. 

“I wanted to keep her safe,” she tells him, truthfully.  

“I can keep her safe.” 

“Can you though?” She questions him. “Don’t get me wrong, Tom, I am proud of how far you’ve taken the Shelby name. But as you’ve climbed the ladder, you’ve made enemies. Some of those enemies won’t hesitate to use her, a sweet and innocent little girl, against you and I couldn’t have that.” 

“I want to see her,” he quietly demands. 

“She’s asleep in bed,” she tells him. “Just don’t wake her.” She leads him to Mabel’s bedroom.  

The door creaks as she pushes it open and walks into the room ahead of him. She watches him as he stares down at the little girl curled up in her bed, clutching her doll to her chest as soft snores emanate from her.  

“She looks like you,” Tommy says softly as he looks down at the little girl with astonishment.  

Y/N let’s out a chuckle, “I think she looks like you. Wait until she opens those pretty blue eyes of hers. She’s all you, Tommy.” 

Watching his little girl sleep, brings a calmness to him and an understanding of why she did it. He would go to any lengths to protect her now knowing that she’s his, just like Y/N had gone to hers. “I understand why you didn’t tell me.” 

“I should have told you,” she starts her apology. “I’m sorry I never told you. Just know it wasn’t an easy decision and it broke my heart to do it but I had to keep her safe. You have every right to be angry with me and to hate me.” 

“Don’t leave again,” he says barely above a whisper, his eyes never moving from his daughter. “Don’t take her away again. Let me be here for her and you. Let me take care of the both of you.” 

“We’re not going anywhere, Tom,” she tells him moving to stand closer to him as she also admires there little girl. “I know you can protect her and keep her safe.” 

“And you,” he adds. “I can keep you safe and protected too.” 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” she tells him. 

“But I do,” he says before adding, “I always have. Even more so now that we’re going to be a family.” 

“So, now you want to marry me?” She quips and leads him back out of the room so they don’t wake Mabel. 

“I should have married you years ago,” he admits as they move into the kitchen, where Y/N makes them a cup of tea. 

All through the night, the two parents talk about Mabel, Y/N filling him on everything he’s missed and Tommy learning everything he can about his daughter.  

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Bold means your @ didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes your blog will be linked after posted but I don't think you get the notification. You'll have to let me know and I'll change it from bold to normal. Tags have been weird lately. Here's a post I found that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

Change your Tumblr password now.

Humongous data breach just happened, with loads upon loads of sites being affected. Tumblr's among those. Also on the list is Wattpad for you fanfic people out there- among many, many other places.

There's a searchable list at the bottom of the article. Highly recommend scrolling or searching through, seeing what places you may be on that have been affected, and securing all your accounts. This thing's kind of big.

Cybernews

Mother of All Breaches: ​a Historic Data Leak Reveals 26 Billion Records | Cybernews

The supermassive leak contains data from numerous previous breaches, comprising an astounding 12 terabytes of information, spanning over a m

If you know people on any of the sites affected, let them know about this too, and spread the article around.