#I just can’t come back here it’s still the bad place

[syverse]

i depend on you // ft. katsuki bakugou

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

bakugou can't bring himself to hate you, even after you left

warnings&a/n: if this is bad LEAVE ME ALONE PLEASE!!! got suddenly verrrry inspired by that one drawing on tiktok and maybe i misinterpreted it in the writing but shoot me who cares. this is like my first time writing something and actually finishing it i get so discouraged and give up. if you hate this i will never do this again.

In his life, there's a lot of things that Bakugou hates. He hates simple and unavoidable things like the rain, and he hates specific things like people who rely on everybody around them. He hates weak people, hates getting up too early in the morning, hates being too involved in other people's lives if he doesn’t necessarily have to be. But, as he sits alone at his desk, forced to listen to the obnoxious and overbearing sounds of society in Tokyo despite how late it is, Bakugo can’t think of anything he hates more than you. 

He spent a lot of his life loving you. He loved things like your unwavering conviction to do the right thing, he loved the look in your eyes when you stole glances from each other during class dinner back when you were both in highschool, and loved the way you whispered his name like a prayer when it was just the two of you under the covers of your shared bed. It was hard at first, but as the two of you grew together, so did his love. He learned to love through the sound of your laughter and the feeling of your gentle hands intertwining with his. Nimble fingers pressing into the palms of his hands before flipping them over and placing feather-like kisses on his fingerprints, he tries to swallow the bile that claws its path up his throat.  

Along with the symphony of nightlife outside of his agency, he can also pick out the faint sound of a news reporter being broadcasted on a billboard next to his building. Pictures of your face are shown on the large screen, along with the headline “PRO HERO TURNED VILLAIN” and Bakugou holds his breath for as long as he can. His phone lay flat on his desk in front of him, buzzing every few seconds from concerned friends and family members, but the blonde doesn’t dare to touch it. It had been at least a week since your departure from his agency, and the news had spread to all of Japan at this point, but the news and media were still eating it alive as if they were starving. 

Bakugou’s eyes glue shut as he wishes for memories of you to disappear, and for the heavy dread in his gut to fizz up and die out. He curses himself for not picking up on it sooner, the fact that you would leave. Looking back on it, he’s pretty sure he could put his finger on the exact moment when you started to fade away. When the universe in your eyes started to blur each time you looked at him, when the sense behind your touch became hesitant instead of gentle, and when your cheeks no longer touched your eyes when you smiled. He should’ve said something. Should’ve done a lot of things to at least delay your disappearance, but Bakugo was familiar with the fact that he was never good with words, and the fact that his heart was bottomless with fear of him making it worse. 

Bakugou absolutely hates you for leaving him here. He hates that he can’t throw every single I love you that came out of his mouth into a little box and set it to ashes, hates that he has to go back to home and still smell you on his bedsheets, hates that even though you’ve made it clear that you’re never coming back, he still patiently waits with bated breath to hear you whisper his name again.  So, as Katsuki picks himself off of his desk and drags himself to the elevator to return back his house, his house where you don't live anymore, he tries to convince himself to forget you, and ignores the way his tongue instinctively traces the letters of your name on the roof of his mouth.

[holdmytesseract]

Hii! It’s me again, back at it with another request (your writing is just so good! I can’t get enough of it).

So this is another dad!Daryl one, one where the reader is pregnant. So we know that some of the Saviours in season 9 didn’t particularly like Daryl because of everything that happened. What if a couple of the Saviours cornered the reader and kidnapped her, taking her to some place to keep her in. Daryl, naturally, is seeing red and will do just about anything to get her back. Angst with a happy ending.

Love you if you write this, love you if you don’t! 💜

What I do, I do for You

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When two Saviors kidnap you - Daryl's pregnant wife - in order to score him off, the archer sees red and does everything to safe you... Everything.

Set in Season 9!

Warnings: Lots of bad stuff is happening, so please act with caution! usual TWD stuff, a lot of angst, pregnancy stuff, violence, blood, character death, murder, brief mentions of rape, FLUFF, Justin & Jed (yep, they're a warning), please tell me if I missed something!

Also, protective!Daryl alert. He goes absolutely feral.

Word Count: 6.9k

a/n: @dixons-sunshine I really hope that I could do your request justice. 🙏🏼 I loved to write it and tried to give my absolute best. 🧡

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Ya sure 'bout that?" Your husband asked with a tinge of concern and fear in his voice. "Ya really wanna come?" You gave him a smile and stepped closer; invading his space. "Positive. I am drop-dead serious about it," you announced and raised your hands to his chest; adjusting the lapels of his angel-winged vest. "I absolutely hate it when you're away and I'm alone in Alexandria... Especially now..." Your gaze fell onto your yet small baby bump; Daryl's blue-greyish eyes following.

He couldn't suppress the soft smile on his lips, neither the quickening of his heartbeat. The man who had lost more in his whole life than he had won, had still a hard time to believe that he actually wasn't dreaming. That this was real. You. The 'wedding band' around your ring finger. The life he was granted to spend with you. Or hence, the new life growing inside you. Him, becoming a father. It was too good to be true. Daryl had to pinch himself on a regular basis, and still questioned himself how a man like him deserved something so precious. Luckily, you were always here to erase the bad thoughts ghosting through his mind... And to remember him how valuable he was to you - and to all the people around you whom you called family.

"A'right. 'M gonna take ya with me to the Sanctuary. Yer maybe right. Best way ta protect ya 's keepin' ya close to me I s'ppose," he agreed in the end and leaned forward to bestow a lingering kiss on your forehead. You smiled. "Thank you so much, baby. You won't regret it, I swear."

"I know, sunshine," he finally answered; his voice huskily with emotion. From the both hands resting on your hips traveled one to the front of your body; gently cupping the bump which was his child. "But 'm not sure..." You pouted. "Please, Dar... I don't want to miss you... And we both know I'd be the safest within your presence."

The archer chewed on the inside of his bottom lip for a long moment; contemplating his next words.

Oh, how wrong the both were going to be...

Barely two days later, you and Daryl made your way to the Sanctuary. Not on his bike, though. The archer had made that clear the moment you and him left the basement apartment you called home. "Hell nah. We ain't takin' the bike. 'S outta question. 'Specially in yer condition," your husband had said, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile. Sure, you understood him and got his point, but you were also aware that this wasn't a 'condition'. You were pregnant. Not sick. And besides, not even that far along. About four months was Siddiq's guess.

Of course, you hadn't even tried to reason with the archer; knowing already that you'd fight a battle you couldn't win. So, you had followed him without a word to one of Alexandria's cars - certainly not horse; Daryl would rather walk than riding on a horseback, even if it would take him days to get to his destination on foot - and were now comfortably seated in the passenger seat. Daryl steered the car to the place you actually still despised deep down in your heart; not having forgotten the things Negan and the Saviors had done. What they had taken and almost took from you.

A few former Saviors were out and about. Most of them tending to the crops and other things planted in the makeshift gardens. The lot of them greeted you and Daryl with respect; some even gave a smile, but others... If looks could kill. The coldness and hate in theirs eyes sent a shiver down your spine. Of course you knew that some Saviors didn't quite... appreciate the mercy you showed them, neither the things you did for them. They were still hanging on to Negan. Daryl knew as well - and he didn't tolerate them. Unfortunately, he had to. At the end of the day, he bent and listened to his brother; being faithful and loyal.

You passed by lots of beautiful places on your way; proofs that mother nature had taken back what belonged to her. But you also saw a lot of rotting corpses trudging and staggering down the abandoned streets, meadows and woods. Life and death battling over the world domination. Nobody would've seen it coming that the line between decay and reincarnation was going to be that thin at some point - and here we were.

"Ya a'right, sunshine?" Daryl's deep, but comforting and definitely slightly worried voice urged suddenly to your ears. You blinked and tried to refocus again. You didn't notice that you had your head in the clouds; lost in thoughts. Neither did you notice that Daryl had parked and turned off the engine of the car. "Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry. Just spaced out a bit." Daryl nodded and gave you a last look, before he opened the car door and moved to get out of his seat. "C'mon. We're here."

It was strange to be back at the Sanctuary. Only the mere look at the huge, old factory caused an uneasy feeling to spread within your stomach. And you could tell that Daryl wasn't quite at ease either. How could he? After all he had to go through here... After all the traumatizing experiences...

"Daryl." A blond woman approached the two of you. Your eyes scanned her face; realizing that you knew her. Laura - if you remembered correctly. The archer jutted his chin into her direction; silently addressing her. The both of them started to talk. Something about the crops and an incident with a 'living' walker as a scarecrow. You didn't pay fully attention to your husband and the former Savior, since you could clearly feel a pair of eyes on you. In search for them, you looked to your left; meeting eyes with a man. Tall, longer black hair and a beard. He was quite a few yards away from you but you could clearly tell that he was the one watching you.

You blinked and waved it off. It was most likely 'cause he had never seen you before.

"Let's get our stuff inside. 'S gettin' dark soon." Your husband's voice caused you to redirect your attention. "Yeah..." You nodded; still a bit absentmindedly, and followed Daryl inside the building.

He led you down several corridors, until you reached a spacious room with a bed, attached bathroom and a few other basic things. While Daryl put down his backpack and your bag alongside his beloved crossbow, you sat down on the bed; feeling a dull ache in your feet. "Ya okay, darlin'?" Of course, Daryl noticed immediately. His senses seemed to be even sharper since you told him about the pregnancy. You nodded. "Sure, Dar. Just some swollen feet." He gave you one of those cute, little smiles you adored so much. "Guess yer in for a foot rub tonight then."

It was the fourth day you spent at the Sanctuary. Daryl tried his best to be around you as much as somehow possible, but unfortunately, there was a lot of work to do for the 'leader'. So, you just decided to stay around him. Luckily, you had a few books packed and you'd always find a comfortable seat - no matter where. You just felt safer when your husband was close, and you could tell that it was much appreciated by him that he could throw a watchful eye on you from time to time.

Daryl wasn't the only one who had his eyes on you, though... Day after day, you could feel the unpleasant stare of that man who already had watched you at the day you set foot here... Justin, like you got to know. He didn't let a single opportunity slip to eye you. It was highly uncomfortable and quite confusing. You didn't know why he was doing what he did. It wasn't like you knew each other. You never even had exchanged a single word! Yet he was always looking... And when you'd catch him, he just gave you a little smirk - what didn't make you feel any better.

After day two, you just accepted it and tried to brush it off and ignore it. You didn't dare to confront the man. If you weren't pregnant, you wouldn't have even give it a second thought and walked straight up to your 'stalker', but... You were pregnant and didn't want to risk anything.

And telling Daryl wasn't an option in your eyes either. He was already so occupied and definitely way more on edge now that he was back at this former hellhole. This wouldn't end well; you knew it.

"You gotta come! Reilly and Mark are fighting. They're yelling at each other like kindergartners!" Daryl scoffed. "Dun care. They can handle their shit alone." The Savior standing opposite you frantically shook his head. "Man, if you don't intervene, this is gonna escalate! They're gonna beat each other up - or worse! You know how they are!" The archer groaned and rolled his eyes. Unfortunately was that idiot right. He couldn't let this escalate, even if he didn't care if it did. He had silently promised Rick to keep this place sane and running, so... "Fine," he finally answered, and turned to you. "Ya gonna find the way alone, sunshine?" You nodded, and placed a hand on his chest with a soft smile. "Of course. Go. I'll be waiting for you in bed. I'm tired." Your husband nodded and gave your hip a soft squeeze; an apologizing look on his face. He didn't want to leave you alone - but knew he had to. Turning on his heel, he followed the Savior and vanished around the corner.

"Dixon!" You flinched at the sudden, unanticipated voice of a man echoing down the corridor you and Daryl just walked through. You were actually on your way back to your room; ready to call it a day. Well, apparently not...

The archer stopped and turned; you both witnessing Dean - a Savior, of course, sprint around the corner. "Dixon!" "Wha'?" Daryl snarled in annoyance. He have had enough of that day. All he wanted was to disappear in that room and not leave it - and you, until tomorrow.

"Hello, Y/N."

You sighed and gazed behind you down the empty corridor, as you felt a flutter within your belly. You smiled; placing a palm underneath your baby bump, which was well hidden since you wore way too big, but comfortable clothes from the day you got here. "I know, munchkin. Daddy's gonna be back soon. Let's go to bed. We could both use some sleep," you talked to your unborn baby quietly; the smile never leaving your lips.

Everything was eerily quiet. Well, no wonder. It was quite late and most of the Saviors were already sleep, you reckoned. Hopefully me too, soon, you thought; pushing down the door handle and opening the door to yours and Daryl's room. You switched on the light - thanks to the generators.

An unknown voice suddenly urged to your ears; causing you to flinch and almost stumble right back out of the room again. You spun around to seek out the origin of the voice; finding the man who had watched you for days sitting on that one chair in the corner of the room with a smirk on his face. You swallowed hard.

"Justin, right?" You tried to sound brave, even though you had a very uneasy feeling brewing within your gut. "What are you doing here? Can I, um, help you?"

Justin's smirk widened. "Oh yes, indeed. You can help me... Close the door, love. I wanna talk." You did what he said and slowly closed the door, but your hand kept gripping the handle - just in case.

"I have never see you before," he started. "Surely we both crossed paths before without knowing - blame it to the war." "Most likely, yeah..." You answered. Justin shook his head and let his eyes wander over your body again. You felt like a piece of meat. "You're a true sight for sore eyes, Y/N... What a shame..." You frowned. "Shame?" The black haired man nodded. "It's a shame you have such low standards and waste your time on a man like Dixon. You are his girl, aren't you?" Your frown deepened at his words; feeling anger bubble up inside you.

Just as you wanted to speak up, the Savior cut you off. "Or... Wait... Are you just his little toy? An occasional fuck? God, how pathetic," he laughed to himself. "What do you get in return? Protection? Food? A shelter? Or are you doing it for free? His dick that good?"

Your jaw almost dropped at the foul words leaving Justin's mouth. He definitely went to far. You've had enough. Nobody threw mud at Daryl like that. Nobody. You were not having it.

"I'm his wife! I-" "His wife?" Justin cut you off once more; laughing. "So this is some serious shit, huh? Wow... Never thought a guy like Dixon could pull such a hot girl like you. You're too good for him, you know," the man said with a dramatic sigh and pulled himself up from the chair. With calculated steps, he crossed the room - and the predatory smirk he wore on his lips, made you feel even more uneasy than you already felt. "You certainly deserve..." Justin licked his lips. "...better."

The Saviors eyes widened, "Fucking hell... He... He knocked you up?" and he laughed. "You're dumber than I thought." Justin shook his head; still smiling amused. "We're witnessing the fucking end of this shit show called life," he gestured around himself. "And you don't know better than get pregnant with that asshole's bastard child."

You swallowed hard and took a step back, feeling your back pressing against the door; grip on the handle still painfully tight. "N-No, I don't. Daryl is more than enough. H-He treats me right." "He treats you right?" Justin asked mockingly, "Aww, how cute." and chuckled. "What if I told you that other men could treat you so much better?" He whispered in a low voice and reached out a hand to cup your chin with his thumb and forefinger.

Your heartbeat quickened; pumping adrenaline through your whole body in fear. Your primal instinct to run already knocked against the door to your brain, but another instinct was stronger just yet... Protecting your baby. So, out of instinct, your free arm wrapped around your baby bump, before you could even stop yourself - and it didn't escape Justin's notice, of course. Your well kept secret suddenly wasn't a secret anymore.

The last sentence was the straw that broke the camel's back. Insulting the husband of an expectant mother wasn't wise. But insulting the child of an expectant mother was suicide.

It was the whistle which sealed your fate.

Before the rational part of your brain could intervene, did your palm already collide with Justin's cheek; slapping him hard.

A soft groan of pain left his lips as he stumbled back. His hand immediately rubbing the now stinging skin. "You bitch!" The Savior exclaimed angrily. "Alright, that's enough." Justin stomped back over to you and already reached out his hand to grasp your wrist, but your instincts kicked in again. This time, they told you to run. So, you did.

Quickly opening the door, you stormed outside and wanted to flee - but you unfortunately didn't get far.

Suddenly another Savior appeared in the corridor ahead of you - and you immediately stopped. Frantically turning around and searching reverently for a way to escape, you soon figured out that there was no way out. One man in front of you, Justin coming up behind you. And in the blink of an eye, you found yourself in the same situation like seconds earlier - just that it was way worse now. Pressed against the wall; trying to shield your unborn child from any possible harm and danger. "P-Please, don't p-please..." You begged for mercy, but it was no use. The men just laughed; having you cornered. "Not so brave anymore, are we?" Justin snickered. Tears stung your eyes. "T-The baby, p-please..." You whispered through tears; feeling your knees buckle and almost give in from underneath you. Silently, you prayed to every God and higher force, that Daryl would walk around the corner now.

He didn't.

"Get her. We're gonna make that asshole pay." It was the last thing you heard, before the other man lashed out. You felt a throbbing pain in your skull and within seconds went everything black.

Grumbling in annoyance, Daryl made his way finally back to yours and his quarters. To solve the stupid, boyish conflict between those two primitive idiots took longer than he thought it would. It got him even more tired than he already was. All the archer wanted was to sleep with you safely in his arms.

However, when he reached your shared room he found the door ajar; causing his heart rate to quicken on an instant. Without wasting even a second, he literally stormed in - only to find the room empty and deafeningly quiet.

"Y/N?!" He called out, but didn't receive an answer. "Y/N?!" In a frenzy of panic, Daryl started to search for you. To his sheer horror, he couldn't find you. Fear and the nagging feeling of guilt and failure already eating away at him. He swore to protect you. You felt safe whenever he was around - and now he had failed you; failed to protect you and his unborn child. Whatever happened to you, Daryl could tell that it wasn't something good. This was the Sanctuary, after all. This hellhole was worse than what laid behind the gates.

Nevertheless, he hoped to find you unscathed, and that all of this was just a big misunderstanding.

Of course... He should've think of that. Jed was - among a few others - a Savior, who didn't quite like how things went down. Negan being defeated... Rick's plan to 'convert' them to be better people... Daryl taking over the Sanctuary... It didn't suit their plans. Daryl knew they hated it - and they hated him. So, why wouldn't Jed - or hence, any of them, do something to get at him? And what was the best way to inflict pain to somebody? Exactly. By hurting someone the person loves.

Life didn't treat the archer kind - of course. You were nowhere to be found. Not in the kitchens, the sanitary rooms, nor the common room; his next destination being the gardens.

"Daryl?" A female voice suddenly urged to his ears - not yours, though. So, he simply ignored it. "Daryl?" Laura stepped into his view. She was on watch and saw her visibly distraught 'leader'. "What the hell is wrong? You run around like a mad man. What are you looking for?"

The archer froze in his movements for a moment; breathing labored. "Y/N. Can't find 'er. Somethin' happened to 'er. Someone took 'er. I'm sure 'a it," he spoke in a low, deep voice. Threateningly. "Ya know somethin' I should know?" Eyes full of a anger were staring the Savior woman down. And Laura knew that this wasn't a version of Daryl you wanted to get yourself into a fight with.

"Not really, no, but..." She frowned; seemed to recall something in her memory. "I saw Jed hanging around in the hallway of your room this afternoon." The archer clenched his jaw.

He shouldn't have let you accompany him.

"Daryl?" Laura's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. The archer wanted to answer, but all he saw was red. He stormed off; driven by anger, fear and the urge to protect what was his - the most important one of the few good things in his life.

Without any unnecessary detours, Daryl went straight for Jed's room. Not even blinking, he barged through the door; slamming it shut behind him and causing the Savior, who was just about to get changed for the night to flinch badly. Jed spun around; his eyes landing on Daryl. "What the hell, Dixon?!" He complained; not noticing the hands of the archer, which were curled into fists, nor the rage in his blue-grey eyes. "Fuck off! This isn't your-" Before Jed was even able to finish his sentence, had Daryl already crossed the distance with three big steps and grabbed the Savior by the lapels of his shirt; pinning him against the wall. Sure, Jed was strong - but not as strong as the bulky archer. Plus, the momentum was clearly on Daryl's side, since he had caught him by surprise.

Daryl growled lowly in his throat. It wasn't a warning. It was a threat.

"What-" "Shut yer damn mouth 'n tell me where she is," Daryl growled; accentuating his words with pushing Jed a little harder and caging him entirely between the wall and his broad frame.

The man scoffed and pawed - in vain - at Daryl's bare forearms and the bulging veins and muscles located there; trying to free himself. "What the fuck are you talking about, Dixon?!"

"Ya ain't fuckin' with me, asshole. Ya know exactly what 'm talkin' about." His grip on Jed's shirt lapels tightened. "Where is my wife," Daryl punctuated every single word. The Savior glared into the archer's eyes for a moment, before he scoffed once again. "I have absolutely no clue where your little whore is! Perhaps she ran off and found a better dick than your-" Daryl had enough of the bullshit Jed was giving him. Without even letting him finish his sentence, Daryl pulled him away from the wall and threw him harshly to the hard ground. "Dun'cha dare talk about Y/N like tha'." His voice was deep and quiet, but not lacking with danger. "And now tell me where she is." "I told you, I don't know!" Jed tried to defend himself further, but Daryl knew he lied. He could feel it.

"A'right. Then we gonna do this the hard way," Daryl stated and lunged at Jed; fists connecting with the man's jaw and stomach. Jed fought back, of course, landing a few blows himself. Their bodies hit the floor multiple times. Blood flew, bones cracked and furniture got destroyed and wrecked as both men were fighting for the upper hand. In the end, though, had Daryl clear advantage over Jed. He was the more skilled and stronger fighter, and had the Savior snugly wrapped up in a chokehold. "'M gonna find 'er anyways," Daryl grunted; panting and being out of breath. "'N I dun care 'bout how many of yer assholes I gotta go through. I'll kill every damn one of ya if tha's what's it gonna take," he snarled and tightened his deathly grip around Jed's neck; his biceps bulging. "So, do yerself a damn favor 'n tell me where the hell she is!" "Fuck you!" was all Jed answered. The archer growled once again and squeezed, which caused the man to gasp and flail; helplessly trying to escape.

Only when Jed was on the verge of passing out, did he decide to finally cooperate. "Alright, alright!" He spluttered and choked. "I'm gonna tell you!" Daryl loosened his grip, and Jed frantically gasped for air. "S-She... She's in one... one of t-the cells..." The man coughed; still trying to get air back into his lungs.

The Savior didn't have to say more. Daryl knew what - or well, where he meant. "Try anythin' stupid, I'll kill ya," the crossbow-wielding archer warned Jed and gave him last death glare, before he left him on the floor in his room with bruises already forming on his neck.

This ain't 'bout me, damnit, he reminded himself. I gotta keep my wife 'n baby safe.

A lump formed in Daryl's throat as he made his way to the 'cells'. An area he thought he'd never ever in his life set foot in again. Being back at the Sanctuary was bad enough, but the mere thought of going there was even worse. It caused his stomach to flip. He could've thrown up all over the floor if he had let himself...

It still looked the same like back when he was imprisoned. The same way too squeaky clean floors. The same doors leading into the same rooms. The only difference was the infirmary, which had been moved to another part of the other building. But except that... Everything was the same. Daryl had to take a deep breath and close his eyes for a moment to keep his shit together and save himself from an approaching panic attack. His labored breath, shaky hands and the forming sweat on his skin a clear indicator.

"Y/N?" Daryl whisper-shouted; hoping to be close to you and receive an answer. He didn't. The archer had to go a little further to find you, and now that he was standing in front of one particular room with his heart almost breaking free of his ribcage; getting to know that it was locked as he twisted the door knob, realization dawned on him. Of course they'd lock her up here, Daryl thought as he eyed the way too familiar door. That was a part of the sick game they played.

With another deep breath, Daryl fought against the traumatic thoughts which wanted to push themselves to the forefront of his brain and shoved them aside; locking them away and focusing on you.

Precautionary, he freed his knife from its sheath and sneaked down the corridors; checking every room. After all, he didn't know who or what awaited him. Storming into this blindly wasn't probably the best idea, since he was convinced that Jed didn't do this alone.

Clenching his jaw, he had to fight another panic attack; even going as far to cut himself with the knife in his shaking hand, in the hopes that the pain would redirect the attention of his brain. A small grunt of pain escaped his lips as the red liquid dripped down his arm.

"H-Hello?"

His desperate action got interrupted by a soft, weak voice coming from the other side of the door; causing the archer's knife to clatter to the floor and a relieved, shaky breath to leave his throat.

"Y/N?!"

The answer came promptly.

"O-Oh my gosh, D-Daryl! I-It's locked, a-and I can't move, I-" "I know, sunshine, I know. Dun worry, 'kay? 'M goin' to get ya," he cut you off with the intention to calm you down. Taking a few steps back, he let the anger and rage take over his system once again and stormed forwards. The door might have been locked, but it definitely wasn't the same door like ten years ago. It had aged and got less stable, so when the archer's strong, bulky frame connected with the door, the lock gave in and the door busted open. Sure, it took him three tries and most likely cost him a bruised shoulder, but Daryl couldn't care less.

"C'mon. Let's getcha outta here 'n see a doctor. I ain't takin' any risks." Your husband shifted and gently slid an arm under your knees and around your back. "Hold on to me." You wrapped an arm around his neck, but shook your head. "Y-You don't have to do this, Dar. I can walk." "Nah," he stated, "I'm gonna do this. Yer hurt 'n pregnant." and lifted you carefully up to carry you bridal style. You didn't protest further. Why should you? He got a point after all...

The bright light from the corridor flooded the dark room and helping him to get a better look at you. You sat in the corner on the cold floor of the dark room. Your wrists and ankles were tied together with a thick rope - way too tight as he noticed, since he could see the material already cutting into your delicate skin. Tried blood was on the right side of your head.

Daryl's heart shattered into a million pieces, seeing you like this. Fear and concern coursed through his veins. "Y/N..." he whispered in a hoarse, broken voice and immediately dropped to his knees beside you, quickly freeing you off the too tight ropes, before one hand gently cupped your cheek, while the other found its way to your growing baby bump. "Ya both okay?! Ya hurt?! In pain?!" Tears of sheer relief gathered in your eyes; threatening to fall as you felt the gentle, loving touch of your husband and knowing that he was here with you. That he saved you.

"I-I'm okay... W-We are okay. Thanks to you," you breathed; smiling as tears rolled down your cheeks. It's been probably only hours since you lastly saw Daryl, but what had happened happened. The shock was profound.

The archer's eyes scanned your body thoroughly for any visible injuries. "Wha' 'bout yer head, sunshine?" "N-Nothing that can't be fixed," you stated and gazed deeply into his worried, loving eyes. "I'm s-so glad you found me. I-I was so afraid..." Daryl lowered his head to rest his forehead against yours. Your hands slipped behind his neck; tangling a few chestnut brown strands through your fingers. "Yeah, me too." Daryl's eyes fluttered shut, before his lips caught yours in a lingering, desperate kiss.

"Just Jed 'n Justin?" You nodded against his shoulder. "Justin waited for me in o-our room. He insulted you. S-Said I deserve better a-and..." You trailed off; feeling tears blurry your vision once again - but this time, it wasn't happy tears. "Ya dun have ta tell me, darlin'. Dun wanna pressure ya into talkin' 'a me." You swallowed hard and buried your face further in his shoulder and neck; "I-I want to tell you." inhaling deeply. Daryl's natural scent, mixed with leather and smoke filled your airways and - like always - had that soothing effect on you. "I-I think he was only a hairsbreadth away f-from raping me, but-" "Wha'?!" Daryl instantly cut you off. Every single muscle in his body tensed as he came to an abrupt halt. You could tell. "He didn't, Dar. I-I slapped him a-and tried to flee, but then there was J-Jed."

"Which one of those assholes did tha' to ya? Jed 'n who else?" Daryl asked in a drop-dead serious voice as he slowly made his way with you down the corridor. You swallowed hard; having to recall the horrible memory. "J-Justin."

Justin. One word - one name was enough to get Daryl's blood to a boiling point once again. He and that prick didn't get along from the very start - and this wasn't the first time the archer and Justin got in each other's ways... There had been a lot of situations where either of them was only a second away from beating the other up. Justin was - like Jed - one of those assholes who wanted Negan back. A Savior through and through.

The clattering sound of - most likely dishes urged to yours and Daryl's ears and managed to quickly redirect both your attention.

"'M gonna kill that sonofabitch," Daryl growled lowly under his breath, but you understood him anyway, of course. "Baby-" "Nah. Ya ain't gonna talk me outta this, Y/N," your husband stated firmly, while opening the main door to the building and stepped outside. Meanwhile, the sun had risen; fresh, crispy morning air hitting your bare arms.

"He's going to pay for tha'. He put you 'n our baby into danger. I ain't havin' tha'." "I know, babe, and you're right. He... He has to pay. But Rick's gonna-" "I dun care 'bout wha' Rick's gonna say. This ain't 'bout him. This' 'bout my family. We both know tha' he'd do the same in the end 'n-"

Justin stood a few feet away across from you and Daryl on the yard. What you had heard was indeed dishes breaking; the shards and content laying on the ground in front of the man. It looked like he had been just on his way to bring you some 'breakfast'. But now, the Savior stood frozen to the ground; eyes directed on you and Daryl. Your husband held his gaze, of course, and if looks could kill, Justin would've been dead already. You felt your archer's muscles tense once again, before he gently let you down. "Sit, 'kay? 'N stay there, please," he whispered and jutted his chin at a wooden bench. You did what he said and slowly walked backwards over to sit down; eyes never leaving both men.

The tension was literally cuttable with a knife as Justin and Daryl stared each other down. The archer out of pure hate and the Savior still in shock and in realization at failure of his plan. You knew this was going to escalate. Two 'alpha males' with completely different, but strong intentions.

Daryl knew it, too. It would've escalated someday anyway. For him, it was just sooner than later.

"Fuck," cursed Justin out loud then; awoken from his rigidity - and instantly started to run. Daryl wasn't having this, of course, and sprinted right after Justin. "Fuck, indeed..." You muttered to yourself; feeling your heart rate picking up. You had to fear for your life and the life of your unborn child for hours and now you had to fear for the life of your husband. Mental stress was your current program as it seemed - something not just you felt... You could feel some movement inside your baby bump. "I know, I know... I'm sorry, munchkin... I just hope your daddy knows what he's getting himself into..." Your palm cradled your protruding stomach in an attempt to soothe your antsy 'roommate'.

Meanwhile had Daryl caught up to Justin and tackled him to the concrete ground - where they still were. Fists connected with several body parts; each of them trying to gain the upper hand. Justin was definitely stronger than Jed. The archer had a hard time taking him down and couldn't do so without taking several hits and punches himself. However kept him the anger and adrenaline going, and gave him the strength he needed.

Somehow, they had made their way back to you. You gasped as both men entered your field of view again - just in time to witness Justin's fist colliding with Daryl's jaw, who let out a grunt of pain. Your eyes widened and you were instantly on your feet; breath hitching in your throat. "Daryl!" He had turned his back to you; spitting out some blood and blindly reaching out his arm to signal you to stay where you are. "Nah, stay back! I got it!" He yelled and violently shoved Justin away, as he wanted to deliver another blow.

You took a step back again, but didn't sit down; face full of concern. You wouldn't let him die. That much was certain. You'd intervene before that happened. How, was the part you hadn't figured out just yet...

The fight went on - without mercy. Daryl, you and Justin knew that only one would walk out alive. Neither the archer, nor the Savior intended to stop. Sure, you could stop it, but how were you supposed to do that?

The sound of a cracking bone almost send you into another frenzy - until you saw that it wasn't a bone of your husband's body. It was Justin's. His nose, to be precisely. The man winced in pain; crimson red blood already tripping down his nose and onto his shirt and the ground. Justin was clearly in a daze; stumbling a few steps back. This didn't slip Daryl's notice, of course. He knew that this was the moment. He had to grasp this chance and use it, before it was too late. The archer was well aware that he was hurt, too and didn't know how much longer he was able to hold on. So, without thinking twice, Daryl reached for the other knife in the sheath attached to his rugged jeans, freed the blade, spun around - and slit the Savior's throat in his movement. Your eyes widened to the size of plates; watching the man splutter and helplessly trying to put pressure on the wound, but it was in vain.

The clatter of a knife caused you to avert your eyes and look at your husband, who had sunk to his knees only a few feet away from Justin's now dead body; panting heavily. Your heart immediately screamed at you to look after the man you loved. Not wasting a second, you ran over to the archer; crouching down beside him.

"Daryl?" You cupped his cheeks and gently lifted his head to make him look at you. "Baby?" Heavy, clouded blue eyes gazed into yours. "You okay?" He nodded meekly. A breath of relief left your lips, although you could already see the bruises forming on his face and the dried blood on his lips and chin. Your thumbs caressed the rough, stubbly skin beneath them, before you gently pulled him closer and rested your forehead against his. Daryl sighed; his bloody hands gripping your wrists. "Y/N, 'm sorry, I-"

The bubble you and Daryl had been in bursted. You lifted your head; only now noticing Rick and a lot of other people standing around you. Mostly Saviors. Swallowing hard, you stood up; holding onto Daryl and helping him up as well. "Rick-" You started, but the leader of Alexandria interrupted you; shock, disappointment and anger clearly visible on his face. "You killed 'im? You killed Justin? Why?" You wanted to speak up again, but Daryl leapfrogged you. "'Cause he was a damn asshole, tha's why!" "Daryl, that's not-" "He kidnapped Y/N, Rick! He hurt her! He wanted to rape 'er 'n do god knows what to 'er!" Your husband yelled at his brother. "Wake up, man. We can't change them, Rick. They are wha' they chose ta be... 'N I ain't no longer puttin' my family on risk for this bullshit," Daryl stated firmly and wrapped his arm around your waist; anchoring you to him. "Let's getcha outta here, sunshine."

He didn't get any further. Another voice cut suddenly through the air. Familiar, but unexpected.

"What the hell is goin' on here?"

Rick was way too stunned to speak; could only watch as his best friend guided you across the yard.

Slowly, you slid closer and placed a hand cautiously on his bare back. "D-" "I failed ya." You couldn't even utter his name, before the words spilled from his lips. "I failed ya 'n our kid. Swore ta always protect ya 'n now look wha' happened..." You sighed. Of course... He blamed himself for this. You should've seen it coming. "Dar..." You spoke up again in a hushed voice; sliding even closer to him. One hand found its way around his waist, the other still resting on his upper back. "This wasn't your fault. Please stop blaming yourself. It was Jed and Justin's doing. Not yours," you tried to soothe his raging thoughts of guilt and littered his shoulder blade with tiny kisses.

A few hours, a visit at the infirmary and a shower later, you sat in yours and Daryl's room - still in the Sanctuary; trying to process what happened.

Only the mattress dipping beside you managed to rip you out of your thoughts. Daryl, who had just taken a shower as well sat down on the edge of the bed; muscles tensed and without saying a single word. He hadn't said a lot anyways since the incident. Sure, the archer had never been a man of words, but... You could tell that something was still bothering him.

You, though, stayed awake and watched him sleep with a soft smile on your face; fingers carding through his soft, still damp hair. "I just hope you reconciled with your brother, Mr. Dixon. You both need each other and you damn well know it."

Daryl shook his head. "Nah. 'S my fault, Y/N. Should've protected both 'a ya better." "You are protecting us the best you can, Daryl," you stated firmly; shifting once again to sit beside him. "You risked your life more than once for me. And you did what was right yesterday evening. You did what you had to do. You acted like a leader should act." "But-" "Nu.Uh. No buts," you cut him off and gently placed your lips in on his to keep him from speaking; entangling them in a sweet kiss. "We're right here, okay?" You prompted; taking one of his hands and placing it on your baby bump, while you intertwined the other with yours. "We're right here and we are completely fine." Troubled eyes gazed into yours; his touch never ceasing. "'M sorry," Daryl whispered; voice quivering.

"C'mere." You laid back on the bed and gently tucked at his hand; inviting him to join you. He immediately obliged and melted against your body with his head resting on your chest, while he was holding onto you for dear life. "That's it, baby... Relax. Deep breaths." Your husband followed your words, and found himself drifting off into dreamland at some point. He was just way too exhausted and unable to resist your soothing, comforting touch.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @thevegandarkelf

[spoiledprincessbratspostsblog]

needing

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Warnings: English isn't my first language so I apologize for any and all mistakes. All GIF credits to the owner. Heavy implications of smut but no actual smut. Kind of Toxic!Rafe but idk??This is lowkey rushed but I needed it to get out there lol.

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚

Being JJ’s sister already meant people had a bad perception of you, but your attitude did not help the rumors anyway. You weren’t known for being nice to everyone, and that was fine because it scared the weirdos away most of the time.

You’ve always seemed strong and independent. Insults usually rolled right off you, and situations didn’t seem to bother you. Being hard-headed and having an attitude all the time was a good cover. But it was all a front. At home, your dad would constantly abuse alcohol, and you and JJ often bore the brunt of his rage. When JJ started sleeping at John B’s house and only saw you once a week, you ended up taking most of the hits.

You were friends with the Pogues, but not as close as JJ was, so you didn’t feel comfortable staying at John B’s house.

You met Rafe almost a year ago at a party. It was meant to be an emotionless hook-up and nothing more. But over time, what started as frequent, meaningless sex evolved into a friends-with-benefits situation. You two began spending a lot of time together, both with and without there being sex involved. He started taking you out to places and even to parties with his friends and others around.

But he wasn’t your boyfriend. And every time you attempted to bring it up he'd claimed he “couldn’t be the man you needed.” Despite that, as you grew closer, he eventually learned about your home life. Rafe wasn’t stupid—he knew Pogues had it hard—but he hadn’t realized how much your situation affected you. How you were really a sweet and caring person who had just been hurt by your situation. Once he did learn, he started spending more time with you at his house, claiming, “Look, I know this is just sex, but come on, I can’t have you around that bullshit, ‘kay?”

You didn’t complain—free days at Tannyhill with him were a welcome escape!

Everything was fine until Rafe started treating you like an actual girlfriend. You wanted to be his, but was he really capable? Anyway, it wasn’t what he wanted—he’d made that very clear—so it didn’t matter.

Then, you two got into a bad argument last week. You’d started feeling very dependent on Rafe, and you hated it. So you began to pull back, which only made him care more. One comment led to another, and…

“Rafe, stop. If you’re not my boyfriend, stop acting like you care about me like one.”

“My god! You don’t want me to care about you just ‘cause I don’t wanna be your boyfriend? S’pathetic.”

“Fuck you!” you yelled before storming out.

You hadn’t seen or talked to him since. He was pissed but still wanted to fix things; he just didn’t know how.

That’s when you called.

Your dad had come home drunk, yelling and throwing things. You could no longer bear it. So you called Rafe.

“Hey, I’ll be at yours in like half an hour,” you told him, not waiting for a response.

When you arrived, Wheezie let you in. (She already knew the procedure and wouldn’t snitch,) but she stopped you.

“Hey, you okay? You don’t look okay,” she asked.

You put on your best smile. “Yeah! M’fine! Rafe’s here, right?” She nodded and let you pass.

When you reached Rafe’s room, he was sitting on his bed. His eyes instantly met yours. You climbed onto the bed, inching towards him, and eventually straddled him without saying a word while he stared at you.

“Hi,” you whispered before kissing him.

Rafe, being a man with needs, initially kissed you back. But after sensing something was wrong, he pulled back.

“Nah, nah, you were just over here yelling at me. I’m not mad, okay, but you’re not okay,” he said, concern in his voice.

You frowned as tears welled up in your eyes. “Rafe, m’fine. I’m sorry. You’re forgiven. Please just kiss me. Come on, I just need to forget.”

He kissed you again but stopped when he felt you begin to cry lightly, your breath hitching out of sadness.

“Nah, baby, come on,” he said, pulling you into a hug and holding you tight.

You couldn’t cry in front of him. You couldn’t be so attached to him. It freaked you out, and you tried to push him off.

“Rafe, stop!” you cried, but his grip only tightened.

“What is it? Is it me?” he asked softly, stroking your hair to calm you down. “Your parents?” he whispered.

Finally, you broke down, crying into his chest and wetting his shirt with your tears. Although you had previously confided in him, it had never been like this. He whispered a series of “M’sorrys” as he stroked your hair.

When you finally calmed down, you pulled back and got off him, heading to his mirror to clean yourself up. He stared at you with concern.

“Shit, sorry. Okay, well, m’gonna go now,” you said quickly.

He immediately got up and walked over, towering over you. “The fuck you are. You haven’t told me what’s wrong or why you tried to forget by fucking me.”

“I just needed to forget, okay? No point crying over something I can’t change.”

“Something you can’t change?”

“What?”

“What is the something you can’t change?”

“The situation with my dad and your feelings toward me,” you calmly explained.

“Now, why’d you think fucking was gonna make everything better, huh?” he scolded, switching the topic.

You looked away. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“What?”

“I thought you’d no longer be mad at me or wouldn’t care if I was crying if you got to fuck,” you said lightly.

He scoffed in disbelief. “You think that’s the kind of person I am? Baby, I care so much more for you than I’ll ever let on, okay? And this isn’t just sex. You are so much more to me as a person. It’s important to me that you know that, ‘kay?”

You nodded, still waiting for him to respond to your earlier comment.

His face softened. “Look, I wanna be your boyfriend, ‘kay? More than anything, fuck, believe me. But I can’t be the man you deserve. You deserve so much better.”

You scoffed lightly. “But I want you.”

He sighed. “Let me better myself. Then I promise.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead softly. “Stay here tonight, yeah?”

You nodded.

Later that night, as you drifted off to sleep, he kissed your arms, shoulders, and face with gentle affection. “I love you,” he whispered before the both of you fell asleep.

[kawoala]

Can you write smthn with kenma

Literally anything but fluff pls

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐊𝐎𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐄 you’re getting better word count ; (751) content warning ; (video games, soft! kenma, not a lot of cw’s with this one guys, also not a lot of talking, this isn’t as good as i wanted it to be but umm ENJOY!)

The soft glow of the TV screen illuminates the room, casting a gentle light over everything, but your attention is solely on the game in front of you. The controller feels odd in your hands as your thumbs move quickly over the buttons, your eyes flickering between the screen and the person sitting next to you. Kenma is hunched over, his focus unwavering as he plays with that quiet intensity that you’ve come to love. His hair falls slightly from the hair tie, but he doesn’t bother pushing it away. He’s too absorbed in the game to care about something as simple as hair.

You can’t help but admire how effortlessly he plays, his movements smooth and calculated. Each time he presses a button, it’s with purpose, and you feel like you're trying to keep up with his rhythm, struggling to match his precision. It’s not a competition, but you still can’t deny that the small part of you wants to impress him.

"Kenma, wait up!" you call out, your character getting ambushed by enemies, and you're frantically trying to get out of the mess. You look over at him, slightly exasperated, but he doesn’t even look up from the screen, his expression unchanged.

"I’m not waiting. You have to learn how to dodge better," he says, his voice soft, but there's a hint of amusement behind it. You pout, pretending to sulk, but you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Not all of us are professional gamers like you, you know," you tease, moving your character in a circle to avoid another attack.

Kenma just shrugs nonchalantly, though you can see the glimmer of a smirk forming at the corners of his mouth. "It’s all about practice," he says simply, his tone matter-of-fact as he deftly takes out a boss in the game with a single well-placed move.

You watch him for a moment, impressed by how effortlessly he handles everything. His fingers glide over the buttons, never missing a beat. It’s like second nature to him, and for a brief second, you wonder if he’s even human. But then, when your character dies yet again, he pauses the game, finally turning to you with a small sigh.

"Here," he mutters, offering his controller to you. "You need to take a break."

You blink at him in surprise. "But I’m—"

"I know," Kenma interrupts, shaking his head. "You’re getting too frustrated. Just… watch for a bit."

You take the controller reluctantly, but instead of immediately handing it back, you rest it in your lap, watching him as he continues playing. His brow is slightly furrowed, and his mouth is set in that familiar, concentrated line. But every so often, you catch him glancing at you, almost as if he’s making sure you’re okay.

"You're really good at this," you say quietly, almost as an afterthought, but Kenma hears you.

He doesn’t respond immediately, and you think maybe he didn’t hear you properly, but then he glances at you again, his eyes softening.

"You’re not bad either," he says, his voice low but sincere, and it makes your heart skip a beat. He says it so casually, but you know Kenma doesn’t give out compliments unless he truly means them. It’s rare, and when it happens, it feels like a quiet victory.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting like that— him playing, you watching— until he suddenly pauses the game, the characters frozen on the screen.

"Alright, your turn," Kenma says, handing you the controller again. You blink at it, slightly startled. "You’ve been watching long enough. Time to try again."

You grin at him, taking the controller with newfound resolve. "Alright, Kenma. Don’t get mad when I show you how it’s done."

He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a small smile. "You can try."

You start playing again, this time with a little more confidence, moving your character more smoothly, avoiding attacks with better timing. It’s not perfect, but it’s better. And Kenma watches, silent but approving, his quiet presence a comforting weight beside you.

"See?" you say, glancing over at him, a smirk on your face. "I’m getting better."

Kenma gives a soft, almost imperceptible smile, and for a moment, the world outside the game doesn’t matter. All that matters is the shared silence between you two, punctuated only by the rhythmic sounds of button presses and the occasional murmur of approval from Kenma.

"Yeah." he nods, his tone almost fond. "You’re getting there."

[lucygraysboy]

“it’s very beautiful out here even in late autumn. peaceful,” he agrees with a hum, nodding his head. he understands, at least partially, why lucy gray doesn’t want to leave this place — there are no such views in thirteen. “you have a very beautiful laugh, you know? as beautiful as any bird’s song,” he compliments, his cheeks turning rosy. every time she laughs, the world seems to stop and listen, as if completely enchanted. and so does he. “we don’t have birds in thirteen, but i’ve heard they sing the most beautifully in the early morning hours.” glancing down at her hands once she mentions digging up worms, he thinks that explains the dirt under her fingernails and can’t help but beam at her. “you’re the kindest soul, lucy gray. we could build ‘em a feeder.” but he’d need tools for that, tools that are waiting for him back home. and what would they put in the feeder? they don’t have enough to feed themselves now, let alone care for other beings in need. so maybe it’s a silly idea, after all. “oh, yeah, the mockingjays. they’re very talented creatures. crazy how they came to be, right? i don’t think anybody in the capitol knew that the jabberjays would fall in love with the mockingbirds. they were hoping they’d just die off, alone and forgotten.” in their own way, the mockingjays are rebels, too. a slap in the face to the capitol. “a surprise, hm? not sure how i feel ‘bout those,” he playfully teases, never noticing the fact that she’s not wearing proper lingerie underneath her clothes. his eyes don’t linger on her chest, out of respect but also because he doesn’t want to be attracted to her and ruin the blooming friendship. “i boiled the water for your bath, think it’s still coolin’ off, but you go ahead and see if the temperature’s okay before jumpin’ in, alright?” he gathers a few extra logs, feeling the need to keep the fire inside going at all times — the house may be small, but it’s poorly insulated and could lose heat quickly if the fire went out. “oh, i see how it is… you want to teach her how to take care of herself so you leave her alone for a few minutes here and there, hm? i don’t think that means you’re a bad mom. you was just ‘round the corner, after all.” he comes up with an explanation of his own, laughing, putting the logs in the fireplace before taking off his jacket. he walks up to where reva blue’s sitting on the bed, a bunch of sticks laid out in front of her. “reva blue here says she wouldn’t trade you for no other mother.” curious eyes watching as she empties her shirt on the table, a sweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “oh, is that rose hip?”

“oh, look at that, they do seem pretty calm. hm?” eyes glancing up to the trees, amusement filling her spirit as billy plays along about the ‘neighbors’. shortly a laugh escaping her at his comment about hollerin’ like a madman, covering her mouth to be a little polite. “what do ya mean? birds do chirp around way up in the trees if you listen closely, one was desperate for food so i helped dig up some worms.” she replies, wondering if he’s skeptical of her. “and the mockingjays. they’ll sing whatever you tell ‘em to…” thinking back, how she intentionally had them singing to the tune to her voice to stir coriolanus even crazier. alright, maybe that was harsh of her, maybe she did go too far. but — he was going to kill her sooner than later, she justifies it with that. and him LYING to her. “well, you’ll have to wait on that.” a sheepish laugh as she holds her shirt to her chest, hand gently pushing him forward. she didn’t put her bra on, she’s suddenly very hyper aware— but she can’t tell him that. cheeks flush. and then he’s fixing her blanket around her, how doting of wn action that it leaves her momentarily stunned. “i am, i am.. i’ll be goin’ doin’ that now.” warm eyes flickering up on him, a little bashful still as she moves in past him. finding this concerning nature of his alarming in a surprised endearing way. “well, i figured she’d be alright for a few minutes… despite her young age.” lucy gray briefly turns to him once she stops at the kitchen table, laughter sounding from her again. how couldn’t she laugh at that? “or i’ll just go ahead an’ admit… i’m not the best mother.” amused smile on her face as she dumps out the nuts and rose hip onto the circular table from her shirt.

[bidisasterevankinard]

Hi, baby. For the short & impactful prompts: “I can’t do this” for BuckTommy if it sparks joy 😘

I said I will write angst so *throw this and run*:

“I-I can’t do this anymore,” Evan's voice finally breaks the uncomfortable silence that was like fog, enveloping the whole of Tommy's living room.

He couldn’t break it first. He hoped Evan wouldn’t do it. He expected their status quo to stay as it is. He should have known better really.

How could he expect it to be okay when he couldn’t even raise his eyes on Evan since the moment they left the bar? He felt this heavy as their turnout under pouring rain glance, but stayed sure of his actions. In the truck he played as the empty road was the busiest he’d ever seen. And here in his light with electronic candles in the living room, he couldn’t find anything better than his sushi.

Tommy’s sure he knows what Evan is talking about, but they promised to talk till they absolutely understood that both had the same conversation and conclusions.

“You can’t do what, baby?”

The fake smile, he sometimes puts without even trying to, breaks on his face, when he looks at Evan, but not on his face. He can’t. 

Looking at the way that beautiful face broke last time they broke up left him heartbroken. He can’t see it again. Not when he will hear the answer.

“I can’t date you in secret anymore,” Evan says and then gets up. 

Tommy keeps looking at the place where his, soon not his, again, Evan was just a fleeting moment ago.

The sigh from the window doesn’t even make him flinch. All his body shrinks and prepares for impact.

“I-I can date you in secret. Not like you made it feel today. You ended our first date when I no-homo you, when I kept you a secret, w-why should I endure the same and not leave you? I understood why you asked to move slower, I respect it. I respect and understand you asking me to keep it a secret from 118, from my sister, but Lucy? And ok, you-you want it to be a completely secret, then why ask me to come to the public space on friday? T-to a date night.”

Evan laughs. Tommy hears no real happiness that usually illuminates the whole room in it.

“You’ve could just bring me here or fuck me in that alley near the bar, and-and I’d felt less dirty when I did when my boyfriend to all the bar said ‘no, I’m not here with him, it’s just a coincidence’ and then went and flirted with a man right in front of me.”

The shame he felt in the bar returns. But Tommy couldn’t tell anyone. He couldn’t tell anyone he broke and running to the man who he swore was a bad idea.

The man who still is a bad idea, but is the best bad idea he ever had.

The thunderstorm rumbles outside. 

He should have put the truck in the garage, not leave it outside. The rain is too hard. 

“What are we doing here, Tommy?”

This time he doesn’t ask Evan to clarify. He doesn’t want to answer any questions.

“I-I told you I see a future and can wait for you to see it too and you promised you could see it with me, b-but you need time to believe it. Yet, every day I feel like I date a landmine. One wrong move and it will kill me.”

Evan comes and sits back, holding his face, forcing him to look at him.

He is red and the tears are flowing on his cheeks the same as the dots of the rain on his window.

“I-I love you, Tommy, but I’m not sure you really want me or need me. You don’t know how to see a life with me in it, how to plan it, and I-I just … I need to know that you are trying to learn to do it.”

Two big oceans with red shores look at him hopeful, but Tommy sees heartbreak in them too. As if despite all his hope Evan doesn’t believe Tommy will do something good.

He opens his mouth, no sounds come. 

Studying all his face, Evan nods to something, pecking his lips, forehead and joining their heads and breathing the air between them.

“I set you free from someone, who can’t ever move in the way you need, baby, I-I’m sorry. M-maybe eventually we'll be together at the right time. But it’s not today.”

Collecting his belongings, Evan gets up.

 “I’ll drive you home,” he gets up too, feeling the need to do something.

“No need,” Evan whispers with his back already to the door. “I called Uber,” he opens the door, stepping in the wet darkness that illuminates with the flashes, “I’ll see you around, Thomas.”

Prompts for short stories (bucktommy, platonic buddie and saltommy. Other pairs possible too. We can talk)

[ally1uvsu]

Breathe. | Choi su-bong (Thanos) x Nam-gyu

Summary; Where Nam-gyu basically has a breakdown inside the bathroom followed by huge dysphoria and the person he least expects talks him through it all.

Info; Gender dysphoria, trans!Nam-gyu, it’s like one of my hcs pls don’t attack me, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of death (avrg squid game behavior), drugs, mentions of blood, idiots in love, kissing, actually js fluff mixed w angst, Nam-gyu w sensory issues if you squint!!, self-harm but without necessarily cutting, suicidal thoughts, bathroom fight shit doesn’t happen for their sake, they’re both emotionally constipated, Thanos just being Thanos honestly, coming out of the closet, unbinding, bruises, cuddling, acceptance, probably ooc but again who cares, just tbh actual tooth rotting comfort for our boy<3

Notes; I think writing became sort of a hyperfixation.. it’s so bad I gen can’t sleep so here you go goobers! Also don’t attack me for the trans nam-gyu hc I js saw that man and I was like; ‘this one’s going to my big hcs list’..

Nam-gyu has been feeling shaken ever since they came back from that stupid mingle game, sure, he was high off his mind just like Thanos was but.. he wasn’t sure why he felt so shaken up. The blood tainted his once pristine white sneakers, making him grimace as he remembered the pools of blood on the floor.

Fidgeting with his anxiety ring, Nam-gyu bit the inside of his cheek as he pushed the bathroom door open. He could still very clearly hear the screams and shouts of the people dying outside, the cries piercing his soul. He cursed under his breath, leaning against the sinks.

It took him a bit to realize his hands were fucking shaking like hell. He brought a hand up to his hair to tug on it, feeling that desperate urge again. But he stopped, instead, he kept his gaze down on the sink as that same hand that was once meant for his hair turned the tap on.

He splashed cold water onto his face, once, twice, thrice. And then with the support of both hands, he looked at himself in the mirror, he still had fucking blood smudged on his face. His stomach churned, the back of his hand wiping the blood away, completely forgetting about the tap, rather, he just let the water keep running.

Nam-gyu couldn’t help but stare at himself in the mirror, had the drugs seriously worn off that quickly? No, he didn’t think so. Maybe the real problem was him, he hated feeling affected by that stupid fucking game.

But of course he was the problem, it wasn’t a surprise. From a problem to another, as quick as it came, his thoughts began scattering, his hand fidgeting with his ring viciously as he tried to will his body and mind to calm the fuck down.

Again, Nam-gyu looked at himself, really did. And he cringed at the sight, some of his hair was sticking to his face, he looked exhausted, which was no surprise. And then finally, his gaze focused on himself overall, most importantly, his features. He remembered Thanos, hell, he was so.. masculine.

It wasn’t only his personality, but his looks. Compared to how he looks, Nam-gyu looked horribly like a girl, something he despised to be or even think he would ever be. But in this moment, he just knows he looks like a girl.

Nam-gyu cursed under his breath as he ducked his head down, nimble fingers tightening around the sink as he tried to at least regulate his breathing, but he felt sick to his stomach. Not only because of that stupid round but because of himself.

The way he looked made him want to carve himself out, maybe get out of this skin somehow that seemed to trap him in a place where he felt like he was constantly going to lose his fucking mind.

He shivered, fuck, when had he gotten so cold? The feeling wasn’t exactly unwelcome, anything rather than this was.

He swallowed hard, feeling the itch on his skin. He got that whenever he was in moods like this, it’s as if his body knew he wanted to claw himself out of it, it was ironic.

Nam-gyu felt nothing short of pathetic, and yet he began itching his skin. He damned himself for not bringing a small knife with himself, it could have done wonders to what hems feeling right now.

The itching just intensifies, it begins to hurt. But it’s a welcome feeling of pain. His mind drags him to the lifeless corpses he could see through the slit on the door, eyes glazed and blood seeping out of them as the gunfire ceased.

Nam-gyu could feel his vision get blurry, slowly, reverently but surely. He bit down on his lip, the hand that wasn’t viciously scratching his arm as if to try to get himself out was clenched in a fist, his nails, albeit short, dug into his skin.

He was crying again, Nam-gyu hated feeling like this. Hell, he hated everything. He just desperately needed to get out, or maybe all he needed was a bullet in his brain, out there he was nothing and in here he was worse than nothing. Maybe he could steal a pill or two from Thanos to calm his nerves, but it didn’t feel ideal, especially when he became sober so quickly.

His mind felt hazy as he furiously scratched and dug his fingers and clawed at his skin in his arms, he couldn’t see because his eyes were so damn foggy. He couldn’t hear anything since the only thing he could hear was his heart beat thudding strongly in his ears, a sickening reminder he was still alive and would be inside this fuckass body.

He bit his lip to stifle what he guessed was a sob, his hands were shaking again, and Nam-gyu felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe. His chest felt heavy, too constricted to suck in too much breath, the exact amount he needed.

He winced as he moved, the pain finally seeping in. He remembered binding tightly before leaving to this place, so.. he probably hasn’t taken this stupid binder in three days straight, oh, Nam-gyu bet this would do a number on this situation.

A quiet sob left his lips as his legs wobbled, doubling over while one hand still held tightly onto the sink, the water still running. His legs felt like jelly as his hand went to his chest, this was pure fucking torture at its finest, even though this was his own fault.

The reason why he’s like this right now is because he isn’t a fucking boy, Nam-gyu gritted his teeth. He would be able to breathe properly if he was a boy, he wouldn’t need to bind his stupid chest if he wasn’t a boy, he wouldn’t need to cry himself to sleep or fight with internal transphobia if he was a boy, Nam-gyu was just playing a boy, he realized. Or maybe it was just his mind speaking.

He only panicked further when he couldn’t breathe properly anymore, he was practically wheezing. And he was alone in the damn bathroom.

But not for long, really. Because Thanos apparently couldn’t leave people fucking alone when they took too long. Thanos, as always walked in carelessly, not noticing the scene at first.

"Hey, Nam-su, you were taking forever, bro. What else could be better than talking to the great Thanos?" But the next moment, Thanos knew something was off. First of all, he didn’t get a reply, and second of all, he could hear quiet sobs.

His gaze darted around until it fell on a familiar bob, Nam-gyu was sunken to his knees, shaking. Visibly crying and wheezing for air, Thanos didn’t know how to react. He was never good at comforting people, and wasn’t the best with making them feel better through words.

And yet, either way, his feet unconsciously moved to Nam-gyu as he crouched down in front of him. The other man seemed too caught up in his panic to notice, so, gently, Thanos reached out very slowly and wrapped his hand around Nam-gyu’s wrist.

The eyes that met his own were all familiar, but also weren’t. Nam-gyu had a huge ego and was a huge goof, but now.. Thanos couldn’t help but frown as he saw the tears clinging to his eyes as they slipped down, collected on his chin and then fell. His gaze was wild, hell, almost even scared. Thanos was definitely sure this was the closest to frightened he’d ever see Nam-gyu get.

"Nam-gyu, hey, hey man look at me." Thanos said as he held the other’s chin, it was almost scary how he was shaking so badly. "You need to take a breather, you look like you might run out of breath." Thanos said, but it didn’t do anything. Goddamn it, Thanos hated not knowing what to do, hated feeling powerless.

"I c-" He heard Nam-gyu choke out, was he trying to say 'I can’t'? Thanos was worried as hell, he couldn’t understand shit while his friend was nearly out of fucking breath.

Nam-gyu’s hand clawed at his chest, as much as he felt scared to come out, which mingled with his whole anxiety, Nam-gyu felt like he was being tortured. And thankfully, Thanos got the hint. "Is it something wrong with your chest?" He asked as he saw how Nam-gyu seemed to try to get something out. So instead of questioning, he shut up and began taking the tracksuit jacket with the other’s number off. Then, his shirt.

Thanos could easily tell Nam-gyu was almost afraid of this, he was hesitant, tense, even. But if this was cutting off his air supply, Thanos would have to get whatever this dude was using or wearing off.

His lips parted in a small 'O' as he caught the sight of a chest binder, but he brushed it off, now wasn’t really the time to be shocked. "You need to get this off before you pass out or some shit." Thanos said, and Nam-gyu just nodded, feeling lightheaded already, sobbing hurt, trying to suck in a breath hurt like a bitch.

He turned around with his back to Thanos as he felt the other unclasp the binder, his hands were too shaky to work something out, and he felt instantly relieved, like a pressure in his chest was gone, but he still couldn’t properly breathe. But before he could ponder on it too much, Thanos was already speaking up.

"Try to match your breathing rhythm to mines, in and out very slowly." He finally said, and Nam-gyu complied. After what felt like five minutes, Nam-gyu finally had managed to breathe. Calming down as he let out a shuddering sigh, sniffling and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Great, now he had a headache and he felt pathetic.

He had forgotten about his binder, though. He was snapped out of it when Thanos began awkwardly talking; "You uh, really shouldn’t use that thing for too long. It was too tight, dumbass." The words didn’t have his usual bite to it, he seemed almost.. worried, as if he would be, Nam-gyu thought.

"What else would I wear, then, genius?" He snorted, actually caught off guard when he felt his shirt slip back on and the sound of a jacket unzipping. He turned around to see Thanos handing him his jacket, for some reason it was somewhat baggier than his own. Or maybe Thanos was just looking for an excuse for Nam-gyu to wear it. Either way, he was quick to put it on and zip it up. Maybe he was right, plus, Nam-gyu didn't want bruised ribs.. more than they already were. And his chest really wasn’t that hard to hide either way, Nam-gyu was just a bit paranoid over it, and binding felt more safe.

He sat down and leaned against the wall with his head tilted back, he felt exhausted, really. The silence became somewhat awkward with a tinge of comfort. "I’m not going to judge you, you know that, right?"

Nam-gyu paused, finally catching Thanos’ eyes. "You don’t have to lie if you find me a freak, I mean, hell I’d understand if you didn’t want a fake b—" Before the final words of the sentence could even tip off his tongue, Thanos shushed him.

"Do not say that, you hear me?" Thanos scoffed. "To me, you’re still the same crazy junkie who gets me, I’m not about to kick you out." Nam-gyu felt a weird flutter in his chest and maybe more weight being lifted off of his shoulders.

"I don’t see you any differently from how I used to." Thanos added, averting his gaze. "So, you’ll still give me the pills?" Nam-gyu added jokingly, but deep down he was being slightly serious, as much as he relied on Thanos, those pills kept him somewhat more sane to not hurt himself. "You never change, do you? I would call you a drug addict but I’m nowhere better."

Nam-gyu sniffled, ducking his head down as he let out a quiet smile before looking back up again, and then, their faces were a bit closer than he initially thought they were. And Thanos was looking at his lips. And then the next second, he felt his lips on his own.

They were slightly cracked, chapped against his own as he kissed him back, nothing too rough or demanding, it was pretty.. gentle. His lips felt sweet, and he found himself leaning into it, it was weirdly calming. Soothing to his soul in a way he didn’t quite dislike.

And yet, the moment was just ruined by a guard knocking on the door loudly declaring the lights would shut off soon. They both broke away, and Nam-gyu shoved his binder somewhere inside his pocket, ignoring how it appeared like a bundle inside of it and cleaned his face, following right behind Thanos who went in front.

As expected, most players were already in bed by the time they were there back, Nam-gyu really just felt the need to knock the fuck out, it felt like the only thing that would really calm his headache down.

As they walked towards their designed bunks, Nam-gyu held onto Thanos’ pinky finger, letting the other just lead him, really. He didn’t think much of it when Thanos finally lay down and motioned for him to do the same.

Nam-gyu lay next to Thanos with his back pressed to his chest, closing his eyes that were so heavy that he thought he might as well fall asleep standing up. He felt one arms around his waist, and one on his hair, deftly twirling a strand. It was easy to lull him to sleep, he was already pretty much exhausted anyways.

Maybe Thanos wasn’t the worse person in the world, in the end.

I wrote this while half asleep and while I did my biology work, srry for anything. Also I am not transgender so forgive me if I did anything wrong, I didn’t mean to be offensive in any way!! Anyway, enjoy<3

[glossypolaroidkisses]

Hi lovely!! I just read your recent response to an anon question and saw you mention being an eldest daughter and omg as a fellow eldest daughter how do you think lu would be like with a hyper independent girlfriend who basically had to learn things in life on her own and isn’t used to having people genuinely want to help her without feeling like she owes back ?

I can’t wait to read your works xx

Hello!! Thank you for being here:)) I really appreciate all the support, mwah! I see you, you're valid! It's rough out here!! As the oldest sister with a younger brother, the sexism on top of all the responsibilities was exhausting. My experience as a parentified child may shape my perspective, but I hope this still resonates with you as a fellow eldest daughter <3

(Scroll down to skip to oneshot)

Luigi to me, very much seems like a giver. Generous partner! Always wants to help you with things, acts of service! He is obviously anti-materialism, but loves gifting you items that involve your hobbies and interests; Books of your favourite genres/tropes, if you like painting, he’ll buy you the finest paint-brushes and acrylics. Wanna stargaze?; He’ll research to buy the highest quality telescope for you. 

He loves showering you with compliments, and he’s a natural helper. It’s second nature to him! It’s how he shows the people he loves that he cares, by helping.

He’s not flashy or materialistic, but he buys things that he knows will provide meaningful experiences for you. 

You grew up having to manage everything yourself from a young age. When someone gave something to you or did something for you, you were always left having this expectation of the favour somehow having to be returned. You’ve always had to be ‘the fixer’. Because of how kind and capable you are, you have ended up in toxic friendships and relationships where people took advantage of your kindness and willingness to be helpful. 

You struggle to let your guard down, believe that others are genuine, and accept compliments or help of any sorts. When being offered assistance, your instinct is to hesitate and refuse. 

Before your relationship was serious and you started living together, Luigi only saw your hyper-independence on a surface level; just like everyone else. On the outside, you just radiate bad bitch energy. You’re always busy, working and completing tasks. Luigi loves strong women who know that they don’t need a man for their lives to be fulfilled. You’re intelligent, capable, always handling things on your own with confidence. To be frank, he finds it sexy! 

It wasn’t until you started going over to his place more frequently, that Lu picked up that your independence might come from a place of obligation rather than choice, a survival instinct born from a past where asking for help often came with conditions, expectations, or disappointment.

----------->

Here is one of many oneshots showing how this dynamic could play out! Yes.. this is going to be a series! Once I post the other oneshots, I'll link them at the bottom of this post, or in the comments. Enjoy!

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General Themes: Trust, vulnerability, emotional healing, reassurance, understanding, sensitivity, love and care

Gender: Mostly gender-neutral, use of "girl" once

Smut?: No

Warnings: Emotional distress, crying, anxiety, possible triggers for past trauma (misunderstandings, interpretation of actions, self-worth issues)

Word Count: 1439

You’re cooking in Luigi’s apartment, standing at the stove. You hum a tune, swaying lightly as you stir in the pot. “Mmmm,” You hear your boyfriend from a couple of feet behind you. After a few steps, you feel his large hands gently grasp your sides, then his arms wrap around your waist. “Smells amazing, baby.” he murmurs by your ear, placing a couple of gentle kisses on your neck.

You stop humming, your body stiffening. Luigi immediately notices, lifting his chin from your shoulder, “Everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, I, I just..” You pause. “I’m not in the mood right now, Gi.” you admit. Luigi steps back from you, confused. He leans against the counter next to the stove so he can properly see your face. “I wasn’t trying to have sex or anything, y/n.” he calmly says, genuinely explaining his intentions.

You hold eye contact with his concerned gaze before looking down at the pot, though there’s no real need to monitor it. You’re just stirring soup. “Oh.” you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. “Why did you come up behind me then?” you ask, voice a little shaky. Luigi tilts his head, his thick eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He looks away for a second, then shifts his gaze back to your embarrassed expression. “I just wanted to appreciate you, my love.” he says, his tone soft and sincere.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the emotions before your eyes can visibly tear up. “I’m sorry, I just thought you did that because you wanted it to.. lead.. to something..” you explain. You look up at Luigi again, searching his face for any hint of frustration or confusion.

“No, no, no, I didn’t.. I don’t know why you..” His voice trails off, confused, He takes a moment to think, “Did I do something? I--” Luigi starts, trying to navigate this situation carefully since he can tell you’re in a fragile state. You quickly cut him off, desperate to reassure him, “No, you're fine. You’re perfect. It’s just my brain, I read the situation wrong.” You say in a rush, verbally trying to escape the situation. You force a short chuckle in an attempt to rid the awkward tension.

Luigi takes a deep breath. He steps forward from the counter, towards you. He lifts his hand, delicately pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Is it okay if I touch you?” he asks softly, staring at your face despite your gaze being focused on the soup again. You nod, unable to look at him. He cups the side of your face with his hand, slowly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You can talk to me about anything, love. I promise I would never do something to you expecting it to lead somewhere, or get something out of you, okay?” he reassures, sincerity written in his tone. You nod. “I’m glad that you felt comfortable telling me you weren't in the mood, though. You must’ve felt so guilty. I would never want to make you uncomfortable.” he says, his voice full of compassion. You nod again, biting the inside of your cheek.

You feel your eyes finally surrender, glazing over with fresh tears. Fuck. You already see Luigi’s expression shift in your peripheral vision. “y/n, baby, what’s wrong?” his voice laced with panic, but trying to maintain a neutral tone.

Avoiding eye contact, trying to regain some control over yourself, you set the spoon down on the stove. You turn off the burner. Thinking his honest words from his heart would help, Luigi is confused at what appears to be you emotionally shutting down. He’s analytical, used to approaching things logically with fact, and solving them with ease. It hurts his heart, not knowing how to immediately and effectively help you.

You step away, your head in your hands. Crying in front of others has always been something you tried to avoid—an old habit from years of being mocked for your sensitivity. Your palms press into your eyelids, as if you believe that pushing hard enough will force the tears back into their ducts. It’s no use. You try your best to take deep breaths, but they’re stifling. Your chest feels tight.

You’ve never been loved like this. You’re damaged. Your past has made it difficult to trust these moments. You accidentally accused him of trying to throw himself onto you, and yet here he is, treating you.. like this? Apologizing to you? Being so graceful, so patient.. with you? It makes your heart ache.

Luigi watches you from a distance, helpless. He doesn’t know exactly how to help, but his heart aches for you, wanting nothing more than to ease your pain. He walks toward you again, determined to offer comfort, even though he isn’t sure how.

Luigi watches you from a few feet away, distressed and helpless. His gaze shifts around the room frantically, up and down your body trying to read its language. His mouth gaped slightly. He needs to act quickly. He wants nothing more than to ease your pain, but he's unsure of how. He walks towards you again, determined to offer comfort one way or another.

“You’re..” you begin an attempt at explaining, stopping Luigi in his tracks. “You’re so kind.” you say, a full fledged sob following your words as you break down completely.

Luigi’s tense shoulders drop, his heart shattering at your words. He could never have imagined that his care and patience would feel so foreign to you, that it would bring you to the point of tears.

You feel his strong arms envelop you, drawing you close against his chest. His lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead. You move your hands to his back, returning the embrace and burying your face in the warmth of his chest. Luigi’s chin rests softly atop your head as you dissolve into his comforting presence, your sobs quieting in his hold.

“You deserve…” he pauses, a lump catching in his throat. He’s never seen you this broken before. “... all the kindness in the world. It's my duty to love you.” he whispers, his voice reveled in emotion.

You catch up to your inhales, taking deeper, more controlled breaths. Tears continue to stream down your face, but not overwhelmingly, with Luigi's hoodie gently absorbing them. With the newfound sense of developing control over your body, you muster the courage to lift your face from Luigi’s chest.

Your puffy, red-rimmed eyes reach his glossy gaze. You didn’t expect to cry in front of him, ever. Normally when you cry, you run to your room, find some way to hide. You never imagined Luigi would see you like this, so raw and vulnerable. His lashes are damp and clumped together. In his eyes, you see that your pain has affected him as if it were his own, yet there’s a sense of relief as he finally meets your beautiful gaze once more.

He sighs deeply, a weight lifted. His hands reach up to cup your face, his thumbs tenderly stroking your cheeks, as if they are your personal windshield wipers.

“My beautiful girl.” he whispers, a small grin tugging at his lips. You smile back, your heart glowing. You place your hands on top of his, feeling their warmth. Closing your eyes once more, you lean into his touch, feeling a sense of security you've never known before.

You look up at Luigi, “Thank you.” you whisper from the depths of your fragile heart, the weight of gratitude in your voice. “I know.. I have so much I need to tell you. I promise I will, eventually.” you say. He nods, that sweet grin having yet to leave his lips since you met his gaze. “Take your time, amore mio. I’ll be here.” he says.

You chuckle lightly, wiping any remaining tears with the back of your hand. “I never thought anyone would see me like this.” you admit.

“I’m honoured you let me. You never have to hide any parts from me, not ever.” Luigi says softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

Reaching up, you caress the side of his face, feeling the stubble beneath your fingers. You pull him down to your level, smiling as his lips get closer to yours. Closing your eyes, your lips meet his in a tender, passionate kiss.

Luigi carried you to his room, where the rest of the night unfolded in a quiet, healing embrace. Cuddling, sharing gentle kisses, opening up more about your childhoods to each other more than you ever have. You shared a comforting bowl of soup before going to bed, sleeping soundly in each other’s warm, safe embrace.  

a/n: hope you enjoyed!! please feel free to leave all sorts of feedback; the good, the bad, the ugly.. LOL i appreciate anyone who took the time to read all this! thank u sm to anon for the request! xoxox!

tt

[whereispearlescentmoon]

I am really loving your deep, philosophical look at the characters in the life series, such as the one you did for Cleo and here loyalty and love for her allies. Could you perhaps do one for Mumbo?

So I actually hadn’t watched Mumbo’s pov of anything but Secret Life and a bit of Wild Life but I’m sick and you asked very nicely so I decided to watch some of his Last Life to answer this lol.

The thing about Mumbo that I love is that he is so afraid all the time. And I’m not saying as an insult, it’s just the truth. Of everyone in the series he (and Lizzie) feels the most like a person who was dropped into a death game that, and this is crucial, he knows he won’t win. Not to bash Mumbo’s skill, but he’s not good at PVP, and he’s not great at keeping himself alive. Neither of those things bode well for his survival and he knows that. So he spends the whole time afraid. But what he lacks in skill, he makes up for in smarts.

One of the first things he says in Last Life is that he’s A) Completely terrified and B) Bad at surviving in Minecraft. He’s determined to survive on the merit of his redstone skills, but unfortunately, brains can only get you so far when when you’re being chased down by someone. He looses two lives in his second episode, one right after very triumphantly killing Joel with only a stone axe, because even when he does something cool we must be reminded that he’s kind of pathetic. Every time the boogeyman was chosen, he would hide in fear for a little bit, unsure if he could trust anyone. He’s extremely jumpy. In episode two he gets genuinely startled by items coming up after he places a block on them. And like, he can’t really because for his first season he teamed up with people who actually took the whole “red names cant have alliances unless the other people are red and boogeymen lose all alliances” seriously. Hence the whole “join me” thing with Grian. If paranoia was a person, it would be Last Life Mumbo.

His secret life series is probably the best example of him driven by fear and the knowledge that he probably won’t win. Like, he was paranoid in Last Life, but there was almost a resignation to the fact that he wouldn’t win. In Secret Life, he’s really really trying. But no one else believes him, which only makes him more frantic to prove that he can be good at this. For example, Pearl, despite being his ally, dedicates herself to Bdubs and Joel (and later Scar) winning, but not him. And the second he goes red, when things start going really wrong, he falls apart completely. He panics, like he always does, and flails. And most importantly, he still holds true to the old Last Life rule that reds don’t have allies anymore, hence why he tries to kill Pearl. He can’t get any kills, he’s running around like a chicken without its head. And he dies to a stupid joke he set up himself.

And then the best way to prove that he ends up taking himself out by panicking is Wild Life. First, yes, he does die to a failed trap he himself set up which is funny for the guy who relies on his redstone to succeed in the series. But then when he comes back as a zombie and has no fear of dying, he actually gets a decent number of kills? Like, if he would just take Natasha Bedingfield’s advice and release his inhibitions, he could feel the rain (victory) on his skin.

[sturnstarrz]

fwb!chris makes sure you stay quiet while you're in his dorm room...

the fading light from the late afternoon shines through the window, the sky outside a yellowish orange color from the beginnings of a sunset. music plays softly from the old stereo on the dresser, but it doesn't quite drown out the sound of your desperate whines underneath chris's hand as he covers your mouth.

he's making deep, short thrusts from behind you as you lay on your side. the blanket covers your bodies but the fear and embarrassment of getting caught lingers at the forefront of your mind. you can still hear the shower running, confirming that chris's roommate is still preoccupied, however you can't help the way your heart races with the thrill of him stepping out any minute and catching you two in the act. and it especially didn't help that chris's roommate was his brother.

still, chris didn't care. he hadn't seen you for the past two weeks, since you left campus during winter break to visit your family for the holidays. he couldn't stop himself from taking advantage of the first moment you two were "alone" in a while. the second matt closed the restroom door, his hands were all over your body, his lips on your neck, desperate and rushed.

"need you." he pleaded as he pulled your shorts and panties down just enough so he could slip inside you. "need you so bad, please."

and how could you protest? you wanted this as much as he did.

he was inside you in seconds, filling you up, the stretch stinging just a little from the time you were away. you almost forgot how big he was.

“you can take it can’t you baby? i know you can…”

his pace picks up, his hips bucking into you faster and reaching a spot deeper inside you. it feels so good that you let out a loud moan, immediately regretting it when his movements suddenly stop. "thought i told you to be quiet. d'ya wanna get caught?" he warned, removing his hand from your mouth and squeezing the side of your hip harshly.

"i-i'm sorry- don't stop." you plead, wriggling your ass against him, desperate to feel friction again.

he breathes hard onto your neck, letting you grind against him pathetically. "chris, please." you beg, and he still doesn't respond, allowing a few tortuous moments to pass by before moving again. this time, he places his large hand around your neck, squeezing ever so slightly. he thrusts into you harder then before, making you clench around him. you struggle to stay quiet, but you do, your sounds of pleasure coming out as hushed gasps. chris grits his teeth, his lips against the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you can be quiet for me just a little longer, sweetheart. i can already feel you getting close."

his words come out shaky as he feels himself nearing the edge as well, but his grip around your throat doesn't falter. you move your hips back to meet his thrusts, causing his head to spin and he leans down, sucking and biting into the soft skin of your neck. "aren't you? you gonna cum for me already?" he rasps and you nod frantically before you feel yourself come undone in his arms. he quietly coaxes you through your high and before you two have time to catch your breath, the bathroom door opens and matt steps out in a cloud of steam, walking past chris's bed to his own across the room.

"next time, do me a favor and try to contain your urges till I'm not in the room yeah?" he says with annoyance and your face flushes with embarrassment while chris laughs beside you.

read more here <3

[foofygoldfish]

hi this is idk me being vulnerable or whatever

but uh if anyone ever wants to chat or like… discord or whatever? I’d like that?

[the-casbah-way]

i found loads of pictures of my uncle i am going 2 cry

[kavehater]

I wish I could inject pasilyo into my brain so I can have permanent happiness

[raeathnos]

.

[exopelagic]

i can’t believe i managed to get fucking mono and didn’t even get it by doing anything fun

[gregmarriage]

‘i feel like ruining things because i like you too much’ is such a normal thing to think lol