#I will burn down the world to protect them

[webzazes]

making this danny phantom teehee ❤️

My family always seemed like the most normal people in the world. But, we're filthy rich. I'm not a fan of it, but it's whatever. At least I have funds for passion projects, and hopefully, in due time, my own greenhouse (I've wanted one for years).

I actually only learned what really made us so successful recently, though. Ever since I was young, I was told over and over again that it was due to an invention, something useful and prominent in everyday life. However, it turns out that we're so wealthy because of black magic.

The thought alone inspired me so much, and I was already into gothic and fantastical things- it practically tripled my obsession. My parents, however, thought I was "too obvious" or "too gloomy" for our happy little family, especially because of my style of dress, but I was dead-set on breaking away from the norm after I learned how, well, not normal we are under wraps.

This made me a loner at school. I was different, and I wasn't a fan of going out of my way for friendships, let alone any unnecessary social interaction. I kept to myself, and became "the weird goth girl". Honestly, I was happy with that.

But, being a loner led me to Danny. And, of course, his friend Tucker. They accepted me- although we did butt heads at times, as is natural. We'd go to Danny's house, hear about his parents' work, and especially, their obsession with ghosts.

As someone getting into the occult, (I was actively training myself with books from our family library) I was interested. Very interested. I knew about souls, zombies, and demons, but not so much about ghosts themselves, the physical representation of a consciousness and soul tied down to Earth.

So, when Danny brought us to his basement to show us the "ghost portal" his parents were working on, I was excited. Really excited. Of course, I didn't let that show, I figured it might be as dumb as all of the other Fenton tech, and I wasn't expecting it to be dangerous, either.

But, when Danny stepped in to try and turn it on, I realized it was, in fact, dangerous. Very much so. The sheer amount of force I felt when the portal opened was almost painful- but never could be as painful as the sight of what happened to Danny because of it. He looked almost burned in places, and practically wilted to the ground.

He was limp. And he didn't look right, either- his hair was a shocking, clear white, and his eyes were green. At the time, I didn't even notice that the protective suit he was wearing had changed. But I could 100 percent tell that he was dead. Stone cold and limp, dead.

Tucker looked to be on the verge of tears, but I didn't care. I had to do something! I could feel some kind of residual energy on Danny's body, and I thought, "a source". A source of power for me to use, something I could heal him with.

Healing was my passion. I've always cared for life. Especially in this instance- Danny wasn't allowed to die. He couldn't die. I don't know what I would've done if he did..

So, in a split second, I was by his side. I was full healer mode, to the point I knew I couldn't let Tucker see my face. If he saw my eyes, well, he certainly wouldn't have been able to forget them any time soon..

I grasped at the energy left on Danny, and I made it mine. My emotions made me strong, determined, and I used that energy to successfully make an offering to Danny's soul. It was like summoning a demon- I'd seen my mom do it before- but more intimate, as I touched his spirit, poured its power into his bloodstream, and pulled at it, as I tied it to his body. I could almost feel the ectoplasm in my hands- and that's when I realized what the residual energy really was. Ectoplasm.

The ghost portal was real.

All in all, the whole process of "fixing" Danny, well.. it felt like nothing. And it really was quick. Thankfully, once I told Tucker that Danny was breathing, he didn't think to question the wait. He said nothing. And I couldn't bring myself to say that Danny was still cold..

So, hurriedly, we took Danny to his room, and told his parents he was tired. We said that he fell asleep while playing games with us. That was it.

That is how it all started.

You always wanted to be a Healer. Unfortunately, your dad was an Necromancer and your mother a Demon Summoner. So your healing was a bit… unconventional to say the least.

[ofbatsandballads]

please take this. I made myself cry writing it and I have nothing to say except that putting ya’aburnee and darling by halsey on my jason playlist was a brutal choice. also look up flower language if you want additional feelings.

There’s so many things you want for Jason Todd.

You want him to get a good night’s sleep for once. You let him close his pretty seafoam eyes and lay his head in the crook of your neck as you scratch gently at his scalp. It always calms him down, grounds him in the here and now. Your arms around him, your fingers carding through his hair, the rise and fall of your chest that’s synced with his–it all reminds him that he’s safe, that he’s home. You want that feeling to follow him into his dreams, to let him find true rest. So when his body goes tense and his breathing gets labored, you hold him closer and hum gently into his ear until whatever haunts him in his sleep is chased away by the comfort you bring.

You want to make sure he’s protected. You wish you could deflect every hit, blade, and bullet away from his body. You wish he would see his body as something worth protecting. He would stop if you asked, would settle into a normal life as best as he could. You would never ask because to do so would be to deny the part of him you love most: his heart that beats to help others. So you protect him in the ways that you can. You stitch cuts and treat burns, you mend his jackets and help clean his guns. More than anything, you guard his peace of mind like it’s the most valuable thing in the world. You’re never cruel to him, never scream vicious words or toss him out into the cold night. You call Bruce and thank him for the first edition Jane Austen novels that arrived on your doorstep on August 16th when Jason just…can’t. You let him grip your hand brutally tight under the table when you go to the manor for Thanksgiving for the first time. And when it gets really bad? When he feels the burning of green waters that breathed life into him that he didn’t want, when hideous laughter echoes in a place it’s never been? You do something no one has ever done for him. You wait. You stay. You stay by his side until he can breathe again, until dawn breaks and he can see the light again. And always, always you, haloed in it like an angel he doesn’t think he deserves. He does.

You want him to have a good cup of hot chocolate. He told you about it once when he came home after a long winter patrol. Half delirious from exhaustion, he reminisced about how Bruce would make them both a cup of hot chocolate after particularly rough or successful patrols in December. How this specific hot chocolate had no equal—even Alfred couldn’t replicate the richness and warmth. You noticed the fondness in his voice, the longing so intense that it still makes your heart ache for him. So you do some light stalking and hunt down Tim Drake, demand that he give you the information you want or else you’ll disclose how he really lost his spleen to Bruce (why he was dense enough to tell Jason, you’ll never know). And that is how Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist single father and the Batman, receives an email with the subject line “URGENT: Recipe Request” that reads as follows:

To whom it may concern,

I have been made aware that you have a remarkably compelling hot chocolate recipe that is hitherto unparalleled by cafes, franchises, and butlers alike. I am emailing you to inquire about my being sent this recipe post-haste. This is less a request than a demand. I will do my best to ensure that you, at some point in time not specified (it will take great effort on my part), are able to witness the consumption of the hot chocolate by the individual that will be receiving the product of the recipe.

Best regards,

Someone who loves your son.

Bruce sends the recipe the second he receives the email. He has to sneak his phone under the conference table at the Wayne Enterprises board meeting to do it, but he still manages to reply in two minutes and forty-seven seconds. And you make good on your promise. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jason shine as brightly as he does that Christmas, lit up by the lights on the twelve foot tree as he sips his hot chocolate from the same red mug that’s been sitting in the kitchen cabinet since he last drank from it. The matching black mug is clasped in the hands of the hot chocolate connoisseur himself, who smiles softly like the magic of the season has returned to his life for the first time in ages.

You want him to heal. It’s a big ask; you know that. But you’ve never been one for giving up hope, and if anyone can manage to achieve the impossible, it’s Jason. So you tell him it’s a great idea when he jokes about getting a therapist. You wait for him in the car the first time he goes and you let him open up to you in his own time when he comes out of the appointment body tight as a bowstring and eyes bloodshot. You watch quietly and celebrate the little victories you see him win. He can call his father first now; he doesn’t do it often, but he can. He can talk to his younger brother without hating his hands and the blood that’s been spilled on them, without going out on patrol and intentionally letting all the worst hits make contact. He can go out to lunch with his older brother and his youngest, can laugh with them over that ridiculous thing Bruce did at a gala once to make them all laugh. He can bear his birthday a little bit better now, can accept the cake you bake and actually make a wish when he blows out the candles. But you’ll never know about the moment that you start to get what you want. Jason goes to visit his own grave on the anniversary of his death and finds a bouquet of red carnations, baby’s breath, and honeysuckle with a note in your handwriting that reads “Someone told me once that you were magic, that that was the best thing about you. I think it’s far more important that you were loved. I don’t know what you could’ve been. I don’t wonder about it like those that loved you did because all I know is who you became. He’s wonderful. He’s still magic. I think you’d be proud of him. I’ll do my best to take care of him for you.” He sits there for an hour in tears. Then he takes one bud of each flower and the note, goes home and presses them into the pages of his favorite book. He holds you in his arms in bed that night and feels, for the first time in a long time, a sense of peace down to his very bones.

You want—above all else—Jason Todd to feel loved. You want him to feel so cherished and wanted that he cannot possibly look at himself without realizing that he is something precious, something beloved. So you tell him that you love him and you accept his warm embrace as his way of saying it back. You make him chocolate chip cookies and sneak one into the pocket of his tactical pants when he goes on patrol (they’re soft, they don’t get crunched when he’s thrown from a roof). You read his favorite books to understand what he’s saying when he goes off on tangents about class and social hierarchy and how they governed life in the 19th century. You trace his scars and kiss away his tears when he can’t believe that he could be transformed from a being marred by brutality into a man revered with gentleness. You will love him until the day you both die. You will love him in death, until whatever atoms made up you and him come together again. You will love him until everything that ever is or ever was ceases to be in a supernova of light. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll love him in whatever is born after.

[fangdokja]

"You didn’t just break my heart; you shattered it. And now I’ll make you pay for it."

❤︎ Synopsis. When you pushed them too far, you didn’t just break their heart—you unleashed a darkness that will haunt you forever.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Genshin Impact Males (Alhaitham, Diluc, Zhongli, Dainsleif, Ayato, Childe, Scaramouche, Kaeya, Baizhu, Itto, Kazuha, Lyney, Pantalone, Heizou, Venti, Xiao) x Fem. Reader (separate)

♡ Headcanons. Heart's Sins - Part 2.9

♡ Word Count. 1,741

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, general manipulation, forced relationship

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

♡ A/N. A prelude to the NSFW Jealousy Yandere! Genshin Impact stories... Also, low-key tempted to make an actual Villain! Reader for Genshin. Genshin is too happy for me, wahaha.

♡ Alhaitham.

"Logic dictates I should let you go. And, you once asked if I could live without you. The truth is, I’ve already calculated the answer. But I also know that the only number that matters now is the one I will sacrifice to ensure you stay in my grasp. Your defiance only makes me more certain. You will not leave me. Not while I still breathe."

His voice is cold, but the undercurrent is suffocating—a sharp intellect twisted by obsession. The air around him is heavy with oppressive silence, a scholar’s sanctuary transformed into a prison of precision.

♡ Diluc Ragnvindr.

"I swore to shield Mondstadt from all darkness, yet I never foresaw the abyss you would leave in me. If the light I fought for cannot keep you by my side, then let it burn. Is it selfish? Perhaps. But justice, like love, is cruel and blind—and I will see it served. If I must become the very shadow I despise to protect you, so be it—I'll sink into the flames gladly."

His gloved hands tremble, not from weakness, but from restraint. The soft flicker of a candle becomes a roaring blaze in his crimson gaze, a quiet promise of destruction should you defy him.

♡ Zhongli (Rex Lapis / Morax).

"I have seen empires crumble and gods fall, yet your insolence surpasses even the passage of aeons. Contracts are sacred, but you... you shattered ours, like brittle jade. How pitiful that even gods can be betrayed. What worth does eternity hold if you would spit upon it? Tell me, mortal, will your cries echo longer than your sins?"

He looms over you like a monument to vengeance, golden eyes glinting like cracked amber as the tectonic weight of his fury bears down, heavy enough to crush.

♡ Dainsleif.

"I am the last remnant of a broken kingdom, and yet you have chosen to break me further... I have endured the decay of nations, but your betrayal wounds me deeper than Khaenri’ah’s fall... Do you not see? You are the last fragment of a world I can’t let fall. If I must bear this curse forever, you shall bear it beside me. You will not leave, not while I still draw breath… or while you still do."

The abyss whispers through him, tendrils of despair coiling around his words. His eyes are hollow, yet the depth of his obsession is infinite, a void that consumes all light.

♡ Kamisato Ayato.

"Power is a tool to guide others, yet you sought to wield mine against me. Was it not enough to break my trust? Did you have to shatter my pride as well? Very well. I shall show you the strength of a Kamisato betrayed. Now, kneel, and perhaps I’ll allow you the mercy of living as my possession rather than my victim."

A deadly calm wraps around his words, as serene and suffocating as the moment before a storm. The fan in his hand snaps closed, and his calculating gaze holds you prisoner in its cold, elegant fury.

♡ Childe (Tartaglia).

"You were my calm in the storm, yet you dared to leave me drowning. Fine. Let me show you the abyss I clawed my way out of—let me drag you into the endless nothing that I embraced for you. You will never escape me, not when I’ve already given you all of me. Run if you like—it’s been too long since I had a proper hunt."

His grin is wild, feral, a harbinger of chaos. The scent of blood lingers in the air as his dual blades hum with anticipation, his playful demeanor masking the predator beneath.

♡ Scaramouche.

"You are cruel—crueler than the Archons who forsook me. You mocked me as a puppet with no heart, yet I offered you mine. And now you’ve torn it apart. You take and take, but I refuse to be abandoned again. Fine—if I am to be heartless, then so be it. You wanted to see the puppet’s strings—let me tighten them around your throat instead."

His bitterness festers, a storm swirling in the empty void of his heart. Thunder roars as his emotions boil over, each crackle of lightning a reminder of the suffocating cage he is building around you.

♡ Kaeya Alberich.

"So this is how betrayal tastes… sweet, isn’t it? I warned you once—don’t play games with me. Now, it’s my turn to move, and you will not survive the checkmate. You see, I’ve spent my life spinning lies, yet you saw the truth and turned away. You should have known better than to toy with someone already teetering on the edge. Now, let me show you what real deception looks like—when I make sure you never leave. You wanted the truth? You’ll live with it, chained to me."

Kaeya’s easy charm hardens, his words laced with a venom that strikes without warning. The cold calculation in his eyes freezes over, and beneath the glint of his smile is a predator unmasking himself.

♡ Baizhu.

"Every dose, every cure, every touch of my hand—it was all for you. Yet here you stand, looking at me like I am the disease. If my care frightens you, then perhaps you misunderstand what devotion truly means... Fine. If you won’t let me heal you, I’ll ensure that no one else ever gets the chance."

The healer’s gentle tone now carries a macabre edge, his obsession with preserving life bleeding into a dark, suffocating fixation. His serpentine companion coils tighter, mirroring his intentions.

♡ Arataki Itto.

"I thought love was supposed to be fun, but this—this hurts, you know? And if I hurt, then so do you. Simple as that. The great Arataki Itto doesn’t lose, not even to you, babe. So, guess what? You’re mine now, whether you like it or not."

His boisterous energy turns suffocating, his larger-than-life presence filling the space like a looming storm cloud. His crimson horns gleam in the dim light, a warrior’s promise of unyielding devotion.

♡ Kaedehara Kazuha.

"The wind once carried me to freedom, but now it whispers your name, haunting me with every breath. If I must tether you to this earth to stop you from drifting, then forgive me. I never wanted to clip your wings... But, better caged than lost to the wind."

The poet’s voice is filled with sorrow, his words soft yet heavy with veiled threats. The calm serenity of the wandering samurai turns into a storm that swirls with quiet desperation.

♡ Lyney.

"I’ve always been good at sleight of hand, but your escape act? That’s a trick I’ll never let you master. I’ll bind you to me with threads so tight, not even magic can set you free. Tell me, mon cher, will you still applaud if I make you the star of my darkest trick? For you are my masterpiece, and I’ll never let the curtain fall."

The magician’s enchanting smile hides a desperation that twists like smoke, his illusions now designed to ensnare rather than entertain.

♡ Pantalone.

"Profit, power, control—I gave it all to you, yet you squandered it for fleeting, foolish desires. You have stolen from me, but I will take something priceless in return. If I cannot own your heart, I’ll purchase every moment of your existence. You’ll be mine in life—or death."

The veneer of his politeness cracks, revealing a bottomless greed that consumes even his warmth. His calculating gaze hardens into something predatory, the cold glint of a predator sizing up its prey.

♡ Shikanoin Heizou.

"I’ve solved countless cases, but this… this obsession you’ve planted in me is the only mystery I can’t unravel. So, I’ll keep you close, where I can study every detail until there’s nothing left to uncover. You’ll confess to me, whether through words or screams—it doesn’t matter. The truth will be mine."

His lighthearted wit becomes razor-sharp, his boyish charm twisting into something dangerously obsessive. The brilliant mind that solves mysteries now works only to ensnare you.

♡ Venti.

"I’ve sung songs of freedom for centuries, but you—you’ve turned my melody into a dirge. I have been nothing but free, yet you cage me with your indifference. If you will not sing with me, then I will silence all other voices—until only mine remains. My bard’s soul will shatter, but at least you’ll remain."

The carefree lilt of his voice turns haunting, the winds swirling around you with an unnatural chill. The Archon of Freedom reveals that even freedom can become a prison.

♡ Xiao.

"You knew what I was—a weapon, a shadow of destruction. Yet you chose to wound me? Fine. Let me become the monster you feared. You were my peace, my fleeting solace in this karmic storm. Leave, and I’ll bring down the heavens themselves to drag you back to me. You cannot leave me—I won’t allow it. I’ve lived too long in the shadows to lose the only light I’ve ever known. Do not make me hunt you, mortal. I cannot guarantee your safety—not even from myself.”

His golden eyes glow with a terrifying intensity, his usually stoic words heavy with despair. The protector of Liyue becomes your tormentor, his devotion turning into an unrelenting curse.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Forbidden Fruits”: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling , @jjune-07 , @jsprien213 , @crimson-kisses , @tinandabin , @sashakittycloud

[hederasgarden]

The Price of Survival

Summary: Rescued by a stranger from a dangerous situation, you quickly find yourself thrust into an even more perilous one, forced to depend on him for protection in a world where survival means trusting no one. Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader Word Count: 2.6K Rating: 18+ only, mature themes. Modern zombie AU, references to attempted SA, brief descriptions of violence and murder, and overall dark/gritty themes. Lucius is a little morally grey (perhaps soft dark?) in this story but he is not a bad guy.  A/N: I may turn this into a mini series if people are interested. Otherwise it can be read as a standalone fic. Thank you to @ryebecca, @writercole, @mayhem24-7forever , and @aliensupastar for their help! Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Gladiator Masterlist ♡ Masterlist

You’re making too much noise.

But you’re no longer concerned about the undead. The mindless, decaying monsters are a distant worry now. It’s the living men who are after you — the ones chasing you, the ones who want you back. Twigs snap underfoot, and leaves crunch with every hurried step you take. Your breathing is labored in the otherwise still air.

You push yourself harder, muscles screaming in protest. The scents of pine and damp earth fill your nostrils as the cold air burns your lungs. The zip ties around your wrists cut into your skin, tightening with each frantic movement, biting deeper the more you struggle. The blood beneath them stings, the friction leaving raw marks on your flesh. Still, you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

The voices of the men reach your ears, growing more insistent. Their words aren’t fully distinguishable, but the tone is unmistakable — hungry and malicious. They're closing in. You veer left, only to stumble as your foot sinks into an icy stream. Cold water rushes over your ankles, the shock of it halting your momentum for a brief, disorienting moment before you force yourself to continue.

As you run, the forest blurs around you, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears you can hardly hear anything else. You don’t see the figure emerging from the trees until it’s too late. You slam into them, the collision sending you both tumbling to the ground. A jarring pain shoots through your side where you hit the earth. You nearly miss the sharp intake of breath and grunt of surprise of the man beneath you. Though you’ve landed half on top of him, in the blink of an eye, he shifts, rolling you under him.

You try to scream, but his hand shoots out, clamping down over your mouth, silencing you before the sound can escape. Panic floods you and you twist away, instinctively trying to free yourself from his grasp. He holds you still, his body a solid weight pinning you to the earth. When you look up, the first thing you notice are his eyes: dark, intense, and unyielding amid the chaos of the forest. A sliver of moonlight cuts across his face, highlighting a rugged beard and wild curls. He’s not one of the men hunting you, but he’s still a man, and that fact alone gives you pause. 

For a heartbeat, the two of you just stare at each other, the tension in the air thick. His eyes move over your face, quick and assessing, before he seems to notice the zip ties binding your wrists. He tilts his head slightly, a flash of confusion passing over his face before glancing in the direction you came from. His brows knit in concentration as he scans the woods and you both hear the footsteps of the men as they grow closer, louder. You can almost hear their voices, too, faint murmurs cutting through the stillness of the forest. The stranger’s gaze snaps back to you and he stares at you as though weighing his next move. 

His grip on you loosens, but you can feel the tension in his body, the way he stays poised, ready to move if needed.

“Why are they after you?” he asks, quietly, so only you can hear. 

His question catches you off guard. For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, the panic still rising in your chest. His eyes remain locked on yours, his gaze sharp, waiting for you to answer. The longer you stay silent, the harder his expression becomes, a subtle edge creeping into his features. You shake your head and slowly tug your hands away from his to touch the torn collar of your blouse. His eyes follow the movement. 

“They want what all men want,” you murmur.

Your eyes lock onto his, searching for some hint of understanding or sympathy. You’re looking for something that might tell you what kind of man he is, whether he’s like them or not. His jaw tightens, and for a split second, his expression darkens in a way that makes your breath catch. He nods once, sharp and decisive, as though he’s made a calculation and found his answer. Then, without another word, he pulls you up by the arm.

“We don’t have much time,” he warns. 

“Who are you?” you ask, wariness threading through your voice.

He looks at you, his gaze steady and direct. “I’m someone who’s not here to hurt you,” he says simply.

The part of you that clings to the idea of how things were wants to believe there are still good people out there, who will help you survive. But you’ve learned the hard way that the world doesn’t work that way anymore. Everything good and kind about people died a year ago when the dead rose up and cities fell. Governments crumbled and everything you knew was replaced by a brutal, unforgiving reality overnight.

You started out with hope in a small group of survivors bound together by nothing more than circumstance. At first, it was almost comforting — traveling together, sharing food, and looking out for one another through the chaos that had engulfed the world. But that hope faded, slowly, painfully. One by one, they were lost to raider attacks, the relentless and unstoppable undead, and illness. Your world shrunk and the people you once trusted slipped away like sand through your fingers. And now, the same men who had slaughtered the last of your group were hunting you. 

You swallow hard, fighting the emotion rising in your throat. Trust is a weakness, a mistake you can’t afford to make again. But before you can find your voice the stranger is pulling you deeper into the trees, a firm hand locked around your bound wrist. He’s fast, moving with an efficiency you can’t match, his boots barely making a sound on the forest floor as he drags you along. You stumble after him but he doesn’t slow down until the brush opens to reveal a small, sheltered hollow between the trees. He pushes you into it and crouches beside you as his eyes scan the darkness.

“Stay low,” he directs, his hand firm on your shoulder as he guides you down onto the cold, damp earth. “And don’t make a sound.”

You nod, barely able to breathe as you sink into the shadows of the thicket, the chill of the earth seeping into your skin. The silence of the woods is loud, almost painfully so, but it’s shattered seconds later by the sound of heavy boots crunching through the underbrush.

A twig snaps. Another voice speaks, this time clearer. "She’s gotta be close. Keep looking.”

“I want the first crack at her, " a new voice adds.

Your eyes flick toward the man when he slinks forward slowly. For the first time, you notice the hatchet strapped to his waist, its handle worn from use, the blade gleaming faintly in the moonlight. He grips it tightly, his fingers brushing over the handle with an almost unconscious familiarity. Without a glance back, he disappears into the trees, a shadow among shadows.

A quiet rustling follows with a muffled thud, like something heavy hitting the ground. Your pulse spikes. Another noise, softer this time, a grunt, a brief, sharp inhale, then...silence.

Your heart races and your eyes dart to where he disappeared, your body rigid with fear. The men are closer now, their voices sharper, more urgent. One calls out again, “Where the hell is she?”

There’s another thud, followed by a sickeningly wet sound that makes your stomach churn. You can’t see what’s happening, but you don’t need to. You press yourself lower into the earth and try to make yourself as small as possible while the struggle continues. The smell of dirt and blood mixes in the air, filling your nose until it feels like you might choke. You can't move. You can’t even breathe properly, too afraid that a single sound will give you away. 

A voice, closer this time, shouts, “What is that? Who’s there, who —”

The words are cut off by another thud and a gurgling noise. It doesn’t take long for the sounds to die down, and when they do, the silence rushes in, swallowing you whole. It’s an oppressive kind of silence, heavy and suffocating. The absence of sound is somehow worse than the chaos that preceded it. Every nerve in your body feels raw and taut with the tension of waiting for something – anything – to happen. Minutes stretch on, each one thicker than the last, until finally, the stranger emerges soundlessly. Although his clothes are streaked with dirt and blood, his posture is calm, almost detached. 

The instinct to flee hits you with such force that you scramble back, your bound hands held out in front of you like they might somehow stop him. But you know they won’t. He stops an arm’s length away, crouching down. Before you can react, he produces a small blade and grasps your elbow, tugging you forward. He slices cleanly through the zip ties around your wrists and then releases you. 

Your throat feels dry, the words caught somewhere between panic and disbelief. Finally, you manage to whisper, “You...you killed them.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but after a beat, he simply nods. Your mind swirls with a thousand questions you don’t know how to ask. One thing is clear, though. This man, for all his brutality, just saved your life.

“You need to go now,” he says, helping you stand. “Head north. That’s your best chance.”

Your mind struggles to keep up with the fast turn of events. Even though you were scared of him seconds ago, the thought of walking into the unknown, alone again, churns your stomach, and a cold wave of fear settles over you. You think of the endless days of running, of barely surviving, and for a brief moment, the idea of leaving him is terrifying. What little supplies you had were taken by the men whose camp you have no hope of finding in the darkness. 

The stranger watches you, sensing your hesitation, and steps closer. His eyes are unblinking, focused on you. "There are worse things in these woods than those men." “The undead,” you begin, but before you can finish, he cuts you off, his lip curling back in a snarl that surprises you. 

"The undead aren’t what you should be worried about." His words are sharp, and dismissive, as though they mean nothing compared to what really lies ahead. “Go. Now." he urges, his grip suddenly tightening on your arm, pulling you away from the shelter of the trees and into the open.

You stumble as he shoves you forward. 

“Maybe we can stay together. I can be useful,” you promise him, the words leaving you in a rush. “I have medical training.”

A soft, almost imperceptible look crosses his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. His jaw tightens and his expression hardens.

“Leave,” he grounds out. “Before it’s too late. Before-“

His voice cuts off and he looks away toward the dark trees, scanning the distance. Whatever he finds makes his posture go rigid and his breath leaves his lungs in a harsh exhale. You step closer to him, afraid of what you can’t sense but that seems to agitate him more. 

“My, my, Lucius, you’ve been busy. Macrinus sent you to hunt dinner, not men.”

The voice rings out from the edge of the trees where an unfamiliar man melds out of the shadows. Your rescuer, Lucius, tenses at the sound, and you can feel the shift in the air, the way the atmosphere thickens. He doesn’t respond to the man immediately. Instead, you watch his fingers move with practiced ease, slipping a slim, deadly knife from his belt. With a flick of his wrist, the blade is poised and ready.

For a brief moment you wonder if he means to kill this man too, but then, to your shock, two more figures emerge from behind the first. Lucius exhales through his nose, a quiet sound almost lost in the air between you, and you see the way he forces himself to relax. When you glance at his hand again, the knife is gone, as if it had never been there.

“Viggo,” Lucius greets curtly. “There are rabbits in the trap and a buck back by the stream. I did as he asked.”

The short but powerfully built man, Viggo, raises an eyebrow and glances at you, his grin widening. 

“You certainly did that and more. Looks like you found yourself a little something too, hmm?”

“A pretty little fawn,” another man comments with a smirk, reaching out, his hand extended like he intends to touch you.

Panic surges through you, and you instinctively take a step back, but you don’t get far before Lucius pulls you behind him. You wince as his fingertips brush over the torn skin of your wrist. 

“You know the rules,” Lucius growls, his voice low and deadly. “Take a step back if you want to keep your hand.”

Lucius’s stance doesn’t waver, still shielding you, but his expression softens for just a moment as he glances over his shoulder at you. In that fleeting look, you catch a hint of something else, regret or perhaps guilt? You blink and it’s replaced by a cold mask. You’re not sure what to make of him. Fear and appreciation tangle together as you consider his actions. You wonder what exactly he’s trying to protect you from, and why he seems so unsettled by the need to do so.

“Macrinus needs you back,” Viggo presses. "He’s waiting on the game. We can take her back to the settlement,"

“I don’t think so. I’ll bring her in,” he responds, jerking his head toward you, the motion sharp, dismissive. 

The words hang in the air, but it’s not just the command that catches your attention — it’s the hollowness in his tone. The men don’t challenge him, but they exchange a brief look before leaving. Lucius remains in front of you, standing rigidly, staring into the blackness. You get the sense you’re still not quite alone, something Lucius confirms when he turns to face you. He raises a finger to his lips and the warning is gentle but firm. Don’t speak.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with a grief that sends a wave of unease through you. He takes a step closer and reaches for the rope hanging from his belt, uncoiling its length. 

 "What…?" you breathe, but the question trails off into the air, unfinished. 

You feel the panic rising in your chest as Lucius begins to wrap the rope around your forearms, the rough texture biting into your skin. Every muscle in your body screams to flee, to run from this situation, from him, but deep down you know that escaping would be futile. There’s nowhere to run, no one to turn to. The fear doesn’t stop you from trying, though, from taking a small step back, but Lucius’s grip on you tightens immediately, pulling you toward him again.

He doesn’t look at you as he works, lips pressed tight as he continues binding your arms, careful to avoid your torn wrists. When he finishes tying the knot, his hand lingers on the rope for just a moment, as though he’s second-guessing himself. Then Lucius shakes his head, a sharp, quick movement, almost like he’s clearing away his thoughts. His eyes flicker briefly to yours and he hooks his fingers under your new bindings, tugging you towards him. 

“You should have left when I told you,” Lucius says solemnly.

[harpsinfinity]

The comfort you bring

Leon kennedy X afab!fem!reader

Genre: smut + fluff

Listen to this while reading:

Can you tell this man has me in a chokehold

Tonight, it was all about you. It'd been a long, tiring day. luckily Leon was at your beck and call 24/7.

He laid you down on the soft sheets so gently, kissed your lips so sweetly as his deep voice whispered praise upon praise in your ears, making your face heat up and your heart throb with affection towards him.

He was determined to fix whatever damage had been done to you. It made his heart ache to see your tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes. He only wanted to see you cry from the pleasure he was giving you. Tonight, that was going to be made reality.

His love for you was so deep, he'd burn the world down if it meant he was able to have you right in his arms. He'd kill whoever he had to, just so he could get to you. He'd keep you protected, loved, and well fucked

Leon began to descend downwards from your lips, which he had kissed nearly to death, making sure every inch of you had been kissed and listening to each soft noise that tumbled from your lips.

Kissing at your collarbone and sliding his hands up and down your sides. Your fingers run though his locks, letting out a pleased sigh when he kisses along your chest. His warm thumbs tweaking your nipples as he pressed his lips to your breasts. You begin to squirm under his touch at the feeling, which was quickly soothed my his mouth.

"c'mon baby, how am I supposed to make you feel good with all your movin' around ?"

Leon had a joking tone in that soft voice. Your face burned red as you mumbled an apology.

He worked his way down your stomach, moving his hands to your hips in a gentle grip. You were unable to not thread your fingers through his soft, blonde locks as he teased your body.

Careful, slow pecks were pinned on your inner thighs, making you emit a low moan in response. You could feel the smile on his lips when he kissed right above your clit, making your hips buck in want.

"Leon please.."

you whine, trying to gently encourage his head to where you wanted him. You were so pent up and slick that you needed him, and you needed him badly.

"whatever you want, angel"

with a huff of amusement, he gives you what you've been yearning for so much. The second he's on your clit it has you moaning and pressing your head to the side against the pillows.

He moves himself further down, his tongue on your entrance with his nose nuzzled against your bundle of nerves. His hands come up and caress your torso before settling to grope and gently paw at your tits.

Your eyelids flutter and your lips stay parted with every sound that tumbles from your lips. Eventually, his hands return to your hips. Pulling your thighs apart more before fully burying his face into your pussy.

The keens that are wrenched from you are music to his ears, travelling it's way straight to the bulge in his pants. He groans at the taste of you, tongue deep and licking inside of you. With a squeal, your thighs push against the strong grip he had against them, surely leaving marks in the shape of his hands. your hips chase the intense bliss that bloomed inside of you so quickly

Your back arches, lifting off the sheets as you cry out his name. A warm coil tightening in your stomach more and more as he worked his mouth on your slick, swollen pussy.

His deep groans vibrated against you, shooting up your spine and making you wail.

"I'm gonna-!"

with rolled back eyes and a scream, you come undone and gush on both his face and the sheets. The pleasure hitting you like a ton of bricks as your body spasmed and shook with each wave you were riding you.

Leon's actions never ceased until you were completely spent and slumping against the bed. Only then did he rise to his knees and hover over you. Kissing you with a fiery passion, you moaned at tasting yourself on his lips.

you sat up, assuming he was done. Yet he pushed you back with a hand on the centre of your chest and said in a low, desire filled voice,

"not done, gotta make you feel better"

After hours, and your brains seeping out of your ears was when you were scooped into his arms and placed in a bath of warm, soapy water shortly after

The rest of the night was filled with hushed praises, kisses and blunt nails scratching at your scalp until you were fast asleep in his protective grasp in one of his shirts that were too big on you. (As you should)

[extinctlesspains]

Hi could you possibly do a reader x yandere sae byeok when r is sick with gender neutral pronouns and could you possibly make this a story if you want to that is I hope you have a good day. ❤❤

A/n: Hi everyone! I just wanted to inform you guys that I won't be posting as much due to my winter break being over💔 I'll still post just not as frequently. I hope you guys understand! I love every single one of you... Have a great day pretties!! ♡♡

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑠 [𝐾. 𝑆𝑎𝑒-𝑏𝑦𝑒𝑜𝑘]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

❃ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ! ᴋᴀɴɢ sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

❃ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ

❃ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ’s ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴇʏᴇs ʙᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsɪᴛʏ ᴀs sʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀɴᴇᴅ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ, ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪɢʜᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀs. "ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ," sʜᴇ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ, ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴀ ᴄʜɪʟʟɪɴɢ ʙʟᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀɴᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʙsᴇssɪᴏɴ, "ᴀɴᴅ ɪ’ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀғᴇ—ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ ɢᴇᴛs ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ."

❃ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴘsʏᴄʜᴏᴛɪᴄ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴏɴ, ᴏʙsᴇssɪᴏɴ, ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The apartment was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn tight to block out the cold winter sunlight. A humid warmth filled the air, the small heater by the bedside humming in quiet monotony. Sae-byeok sat on the edge of the bed, her sharp eyes scanning your flushed, feverish face. You stirred weakly, shivering under layers of blankets that seemed to do little to ward off the chill of your sickness.

She reached out, brushing a damp cloth across your forehead with deliberate care. "Stay still," she ordered, her voice low but firm. "You’re burning up, and I don’t need you making it worse."

You managed a feeble protest, your voice a weak rasp. "I’m fine... Sae-byeok, you don’t have to—"

Her hand tightened around the cloth, and her dark eyes flashed dangerously. "Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that." The intensity in her tone made you freeze. "You think I’m going to let you push me away when you’re like this? Do you think I’d let anyone else care for you?"

The possessiveness in her voice made your stomach twist—not from the fever, but from something more unsettling.

She leaned in closer, her face mere inches from yours. "You don’t understand, do you? You’re everything to me. I’ve lost too much in this world. I won’t lose you too."

Her words were heavy, laced with a desperation that made your heart race despite your weakened state. You tried to shift away, but her hand pressed firmly against your shoulder, keeping you in place.

"Stop squirming," she muttered, her voice softening just a fraction. "You’re sick. You need to rest." She tilted her head, studying you with an unnerving mix of concern and obsession. "I’ll take care of everything. You don’t need to think about anything else. Just focus on getting better... for me."

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. Sae-byeok had always been protective, but this was something else entirely.

She stood abruptly, her movements sharp and purposeful. "You haven’t eaten," she said, more to herself than to you. "I’ll make you something."

Before you could protest, she was already in the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans echoing through the small apartment. You tried to sit up, your body protesting with waves of dizziness, but her voice called out before you could swing your legs over the side of the bed.

"Don’t. Move."

Her tone was cold, a command that left no room for argument. You sank back against the pillows, the weight of her presence even in another room pressing down on you.

When she returned, she carried a bowl of steaming soup and a glass of water. She set them on the bedside table and sat down beside you, her gaze unrelenting as she spooned the soup and brought it to your lips.

"Open," she instructed, her voice deceptively calm.

You hesitated, but the look in her eyes made it clear that refusal wasn’t an option. You obeyed, the warmth of the soup sliding down your throat, momentarily easing the ache in your body.

"Good," she murmured, her lips curving into a faint smile. "See? Isn’t it better when you listen to me?"

The way she spoke sent a chill through you, despite the fever burning under your skin. She fed you in silence, her eyes never leaving your face. When you’d eaten enough to satisfy her, she set the bowl aside and reached for your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours.

"I hate seeing you like this," she whispered, her thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. "Weak. Vulnerable. It’s not right." Her grip tightened, just enough to make you wince. "You belong to me, and I can’t protect you if you’re like this."

Her words were suffocating, a stark reminder of just how far her devotion went. You tried to pull your hand away, but her grip only tightened further.

"Don’t," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Don’t pull away from me. I’m the only one who can take care of you. No one else matters."

The fever made it hard to think, your mind clouded with exhaustion and the weight of her words. She leaned in again, her free hand brushing against your cheek with a tenderness that felt almost out of place.

"You’re mine," she said, her voice barely audible. "No one else gets to have you. No one else even gets to look at you when you’re like this. Do you understand?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and something you couldn’t quite name. She pressed a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering as if trying to brand you with her presence.

"You’ll get better," she murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "I’ll make sure of it. And when you do, you’ll see... you don’t need anyone else. Just me."

The weight of her words hung heavy in the room, and as exhaustion pulled you into a restless sleep, her presence remained. Watching. Waiting.

And in the quiet of the apartment, her whispered promise echoed in your fevered dreams.

"I’ll never let you go."

[creepycranberry]

Big Black Car- 3

Rafe Cameron x Maybank reader

2

Warnings: slow burn, L*ke, topper is very much noncanon compliant (he’s like a mix of topper and Austin’s character in IDDI), alcohol, abuse, parental death, not proofread, kook/pogue bullshit, swearing, w*rd, let me know about anything else.

•••••••••

“Just let me get you a new one.” Topper insists and you groan.

“I don’t even swim, why do I need a swimsuit?” You argue, Tired of this conversation. Topper dragged you to a mall on the mainland after going through your wardrobe and determining that you have nothing suitable to wear to his parents wedding anniversary party.

“Because one day you might want to.” Topper says.

“I’ve gone this long without swimming, I’m sure I can make it through however long I’m staying with you.”

“Come on, I’ll teach you how to swim-“

“Topper.” You warn.

“No- no, come on. You can learn how, just for-for emergency purposes.”

“Emergency purposes.” You scoff, skimming through racks of clothing, “this one?”

“Hate the color.” He responds and you look at the dress once more and nod, “just let me get you the swimsuit and if you use it, you use it. No harm no foul, right?””

You exhale through your nose and give him a pointed look. He gives you an exaggerated pout and you concede.

“Fine.”

He pumps his fist in the air like his team just won a football game. You hold up another dress, it’s dark blue with ribbony straps, it was classic, simple.

“That one.” Topper basically decides for you, snatching it out of your hands when you go to look at the price tag.

He pays and drags you into a swimwear store, forcing you to go through the selection of bathing suits until you find a simple black two piece with enough coverage that you were confident your tits wouldn’t fall out of it.

Topper again took it from you and once again paid before you could even look at the price tag.

You liked being around him more. You haven’t really ever had an older sibling or anyone to protect you like one. JJ tried for a while but you both when to different schools and therefore your social problems felt separate. You didn’t want him to ever see you as weak. Topper was the closest thing you had to a true protector since your father died. He was your closest relationship aside from the one you had with your brother. You and JJ didn’t need to be around each other all of the time, you liked different things and people and so your lives were very separate but that didn’t make you any less close.

Topper just happened to be able to be there when you needed him and that resulted in this relationship that was very close and comfortable.

Topper had always had Rafe though. Rafe was his best friend. They knew each other in the way boys knew each other and that was that, they had an unspoken love for each other even though you would never hear them say that they loved each other.

For years Topper tried to tell you that Rafe wasn’t as bad or as rude as he came off, you obviously never believed him because why would you. Rafe had never given you any reason to believe he was anything more than he seemed.

He was an entitled prick who couldn’t care less about anyone else. He was the picture of first world problems and the apathy of the upper class.

But you found yourself second guessing that depiction of him more and more.

A few days after going shopping with Topper he’s finally managed to convince you to get into the pool so he can at least attempt to teach you how to swim. He had just managed to get you to step off of the stairs when Rafe walks through the garden gate into the backyard.

“No. I’m done, did enough for the day.” You say, moving back towards the stairs. Topper lunges after you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you as you hit his arm repeatedly.

“You’re doing this.” Topper says, setting you down in the water so your feet touch the ground. The water is to your shoulders and you stare at Topper with a look that can only be described as pitiful wet kitten after a bath.

“No. Not with him here.” You argue, finally acknowledging Rafes presence.

“What is she not doing with me here?” Rafe asks and Topper sighs deeply, his hands holding onto the sides of your arms in case you attempt to escape again.

“She doesn’t-“

“Topper!” You exclaim but he puts a hand over your mouth.

“She doesn’t know how to swim so I’m trying to teach her.” Topper tells him. He shrieks when you bite down hard on his hand and dart away from him, aiming for the stairs.

You’re able to get up onto dry ground for one glorious second before strong arms are effortlessly catching you.

“Rafe! Put me down!”

He goes down the steps in the pool and sets you down in the shallow end, guarding the stairs. You expect him to make some smart remark about you not being able to swim when you live on in island, but instead he looks at you in total seriousness, his face solemn, “you need to know how to swim.”

“I’ve gotten this far-“

“Yeah, and you’re lucky you have.” He snaps, his voice raising and you flinch. You can feel your pulse quicken.

“I don’t need to hear anything about luck from you.” You shoot back and he rolls his eyes.

“Walk to Topper.” Rafe commands and you scoff.

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Walk to Topper and do things his way, or stay over here and we’ll do things my way.” He shrugs and you frown at him.

“I don’t need to do either, I can float just fine.”

“Yeah well, you live on an island, one bad storm and floating just fine will end up with you literally dead in the water.” Rafe retorts, his face morphing into surprise when your frown grows deeper and your hands start to shake.

You’re either about to punch him in the face or cry, and either outcome makes him incredibly wary. He automatically feels guilty when your eyes well up with tears and you fold your arms in front of yourself. You suddenly look so much smaller to him.

Topper stands still, watching your interaction unfold, prepared to either get the first aid kit or make Rafe go home.

“I don’t mean to be extreme or anything, I just don’t want you to end up hurt or worse because no one taught you how to swim.” Rafe says, surprising both you and Topper with his softness. It’s limited to his voice, his eyes are unreadable and his body language is stiff.

“Someone did teach me to swim.” You say resentfully, your voice sounds like you’re going to cry and for some reason that makes something in Rafes chest go tight, “I think I’m done for the day actually, I uh, I’m pretty tired.”

You walk past Rafe to get to the pool steps and this time he doesn’t stop you. Topper tries to grab your hand and you move at the last second. When he looks back to Rafe, he has his eyes trained on the pool in front of him, like you’re still standing there.

“You didn’t know, man-”

Before he can finish his sentence Rafe is halfway to the garden gate.

•••

Topper showers loudly. He hums in the shower, opens and closes the door loudly, he knocks over shampoo bottles like a bumbling idiot. You wake up most mornings to him humming repetitively or slamming the shower door.

You turn over in bed and face your door. The dress you had gotten for the anniversary party is hung up on it, still in its garment bag. It hadn’t been there when you went to sleep. Topper probably put it there to remind you it was today and that you had to get out of bed at some point.

You left the house for work and that was it. You didn’t want to speak to topper, and you definitely didn’t want to run into Rafe.

You were embarrassed by how you reacted. You hated that it happened so long ago and it could still affect you like this. You felt weak and in front of Topper is one thing but in front of Rafe?

You felt like seeing him again could kill you.

For the first time in days Topper dared to enter your room, he had something on his hands and ignored the face you made at him as he got closer.

“I know I fucked up, I get it, but your skin looks like a croissant.” He starts, kneeling onto the bed and holding his hands in front of your face as you tried to push him away, you couldn’t help but laugh a little, “I washed my hands, I promise.”

He’s laughing as he tries to wrestle the moisturizer onto your skin, “this is supposed to be relaxing!” He gasps and you lightly kick him in the side and he makes an odd sound before tumbling off the bed. You sit up to check on him and you can’t help but have a smile on your face, “I’m sorry. I mean it. I shouldn’t have pushed you, especially once Rafe got there I just- I want you to be safe.”

You know he’s being sincere. You don’t want to let him off the hook so easily but you can’t help it, he’s your best friend.

“Just- just no more pushing. Especially not around Rafe. I never want him seeing me cry ever again.”

“If I have to blind him I will.” Topper says, completely straight faced. You smile at him and reach to grab his wrists, pushing them into his face and rubbing your moisturizer into his skin, “okay, that’s fair.” He says before sticking his tongue out, “ith on my tongue”

He gags for a few minutes and you laugh as he runs to the bathroom to rinse his mouth out.

A few hours later you're in the passenger seat of this jeep, fiddling with the pleats on the fabric of your dress and staring out the window.

You had never really gone to the country club, you didn’t really have any reason to. Your dad used to take you when you were smaller, he would be there to see friends of his or do a business thing and you would be attached to his hip, listening quietly.

It didn’t look much different than you remembered.

Almost immediately upon arrival you and Topper are greeted by at least fifty people who know Topper's parents. When asked for your name you panic and Topper swoops in, he introduces you to various different people. But he tells them your fathers last name. Not yours.

Eventually you make it away from the crowd and find your names sat next to each other on place cards on the table. You both sit there and talk, pointedly avoiding making eye contact with anyone else so you don’t end up having to make any more small talk.

Topper looks at his phone periodically, deflecting when you ask what he’s doing. Eventually he gets up to go get drinks and you look at your phone for the first time since arriving.

JJ: have you seen Luke lately?

You furrow your eyebrows and you’re about to respond and tell him that you didn’t know where Luke was and that you didn’t really give a shit if he was dead or alive but Topper comes back and sits down.

“That was qui- Rafe.” Sitting in front of you is not Topper, Rafe sets a glass down in front of you and you eye it warily.

“It’s ginger ale, peaches.” Rafe assures you and you nod, taking a sip, “how are you?”

“Fine, thanks.” You respond and Rafe stares into the space between the two of you.

“I didn’t me-“

“Don’t. I’m not mad at you, don’t apologize cause we’ll both hate it.”

Rafe presses his lips together and takes a sip of his drink, “if you aren’t mad then why won’t you talk to me? Or look me in the eye?”

You make eye contact with him for the first time since he sat down. It’s almost a challenge, “keep looking me in the eyes and I won’t ask you any questions you don’t want to answer” And the strange thing is that you don’t want to look away. You want to sink into his eyes and never have to hear another voice again.

“You’re pretty.” He smiles, breaking eye contact so fast it almost startles you, “I like your dress.”

You blink at him for a moment, the words taking a minute to find their way to your brain, “oh uh, thank you, I like it too. You look…”

“Handsome?” He deadpans and you roll your eyes.

“Like less of an asshole than you are.” You smile and he returns it. You like how his eyes crinkle when he smiles. It makes them look shinier.

“I’ll take what I can get.” He shrugs, downing the last of his drink, “I understand why you reacted that way.”

The abrupt change from easy going conversation has you avoiding eye contact with him again, “do you?”

“Uh, yeah. I uh, we’re in similar boats in the parent department.” He clarifies, giving you a knowing look that gives way to more than you thought to know.

“Oh.” You mutter, thumb sliding across the condensation on the side of your glass, “it really is okay, I was mad I was just-“

“Embarrassed?”

“I guess. Um, I mean crying in front of Topper is one thing but I don’t think I’ll ever know you well enough t-“

“I understand. I just um, I didn’t mean to upset you or anything I don’t uh, I don’t tend to think before I do… anything.” He tells you, eyes squinting like he’s having to put in work to admit he was in the wrong.

“Really? You seem pretty purposeful to me.” You retort and he rolls his eyes, meeting yours for more than just a fleeting moment and suddenly you’re sinking into them again.

“You think so?” He smirks.

Before you can come up with some smart come back a hand is on your shoulder and you look up to see Toppers mother smiling at you, “honey, i need you to come out front we’ve got a-“

“I said I wanna see my daughter!” A slurred voice cuts through the music and chatter of the party.

You stand so quickly that your chair falls over as you try and locate the voice. You find him outside of the door yelling at the person in charge of the guest list.

“Luke.” Your stern voice cuts through his drunken tirade and he looks up.

“Hey, sweet pea! I was just trying to explain to this-” he’s interrupted by your hand gripping his arm and dragging him away from the party

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t find you, and I heard this was going on and that boy you’re always hanging out with was gonna be here, I connected the dots.” He shrugs.

“Leave.” You order.

“Oh, come on. You don’t mean that.”

“I do, get the hell away from here and away from me or so help me god I will-”

“You’ll what?” He laughs and his drunken affection turns right back to loathing, “what’s your prissy ass gonna do to me? I ain’t scared of you. Sitting up there in that fancy club in your fancy dress with the handsome boys in well tailored suits? Give me a break. You’ve gone full fucking kook. You didn’t even scare me before you started traipsing around with those boys. You think you scare me now?” He laughs.

“Those boys have nothing to do with any of this.”

“You think I should warn them?” He starts, stumbling slightly and leaning on a tree for support, “think I should warn those boys that you’re a whore just like your mother? That they shouldn’t hope for any long term anything with you cause you’re not worth th-”

You punch him in the face with speed you didn’t know you were capable of. He holds his nose as blood slowly starts to seep through the cracks of his fingers.

“You’re no better than her Luke. In fact you’re worse. You’re an abusive alcoholic hick who never amounted to anything and who couldn’t even care for his own children. I’m not scared of you either.”

He slaps you across the face and you can feel the blood on your cheek as the wind hits it and makes it feel cool. You barely have time to respond before Luke tries for another but the hit never lands. Instead Topper is stood in front of you, holding Luke’s wrist.

“Mr. Maybank, I think it’s time for you to go home.” Toppers mothers voice rings out behind you.

“And why should I listen to you?” Luke steps forward, wobbling slightly.

“Hey kids, how about the two of you go inside and grab something to eat, they should start serving the cake soon.”

Topper guides you back up the hill. Rafe is standing behind Mrs. Thornton, he stands beside two security guards, his gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment before you’re quickly whisked in the direction of the country club restrooms by Topper.

He doesn’t seem to care that he’s in the ladies room as you sit on the counter. He’s gently wipes the blood off your cheek, his voice quiet as he tells you to move your head to the side so he can see it better.

“That was one hell of a hit.” He says and you shake your head.

“Stung like a bitch.”

“No I meant the punch you threw at him.” Topper clarifies and you nod.

“I hope I broke his nose.” You sigh.

“Me too, kid.”

[daryltwdixon]

Being raised by a survivalist father had its ups and downs. But above all, were taught two things: endure at all costs and trust no one. When the world turned upside down, you did exactly that.

But enduring becomes far more complicated when a familiar face returns, tied to a fierce young girl he’s sworn to protect. After being forced from your only safe haven, you’re thrust into the fractured world with them where every step forward challenges your strength—and the line between resilience and connection blurs with every choice you make.

Themes: Joel miller x reader slow burn romance, post-outbreak, grief, healing, angst & longing.

Warnings: canon-type violence, death, depictions of grief and trauma, age gap romance, suicide (referenced, not graphic), intimacy and eventual smut. 18+ only MDNI, but I can't control what you do so discretion is advised.

Other: reader is afab, long hair (enough to grab, put up in a ponytail) may be mentioned. no other physical characteristics. graphics do not reflect character description, only used for vibes. Follows Season 1 of The Last of Us. Blend of show and game canon. Picture Joel as you prefer, but I will be mentioning Pedro Pascal's brown eyes. No use of Y/N. In the beginning of the story, time hops are not canon.

[callme-holly]

I love your writing SOOO much. Could you do how the gang acts around kids? Like babysitting? Tysm!

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 [𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬]

𝐚/𝐧: I thought this was such a sweet concept omg i love it.

Darry Curtis:

Darry is incredibly good with kids; he’s grown up with two younger brothers he’s had to look out for his whole life, so looking after children and babysitting comes naturally to him. He’s incredibly patient and always happy to help out, trying his hardest to balance his time so that the kid he’s looking after gets the right amount of attention.  He is very responsible, always making sure the kid is safe, that they have everything they need, that they’ve done their homework if they have it, but he also has a soft spot. Sometimes you’ll catch him letting the kid climb all over him, telling them stories, and joining in their silly games when he gets the chance. 

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda is every kid’s ideal babysitter. He’s fun, he’s entertaining, but he can also be incredibly responsible when he needs to be. If you’re babysitting, the child is instantly drawn to Soda, and he matches their energy perfectly, joining in with their games and making them laugh.  However, he isn’t the best when it comes to discipline and sometimes lets the kids get away with more than they should, which is where you, more often than not, need to step in. Sometimes it feels like babysitting two kids, but you can’t be upset with him because he manages the chaos so well. 

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony is a little more awkward around kids and unsure when it comes down to babysitting. He’s a lot more quiet and level-headed, settling for calmer activities to keep the child entertained. He’ll draw with them, help them with their reading, and will also help them with schoolwork depending on their age. If the kids are particularly rowdy, he might struggle a bit at first, but it won’t take him long to warm up to them, and soon he’ll be dragged into their games and will be playing along, helping build up big, dramatic storylines with his more than creative imagination. 

Johnny Cade:

Much like Pony, Johnny is a little unsure at first, not wanting to say or do the wrong thing. He’s never had any experiences with younger kids, and he hasn’t exactly had the best role models, but when the kids start gravitating towards his calm personality, he relaxes a little. He’ll sit with them and play along with action figures, going along with storylines and listening to all the stories they have to tell like they’re the most interesting and important things in the world. He’s incredibly good when the child is upset, knowing exactly how to calm them down, and doesn’t complain when they cling to him for comfort. 

Dallas Winston:

Babysitting is Dally’s worst nightmare, and he doesn’t enjoy it a single bit, only sticking around because you insist. Unfortunately for him, kids tend to be fascinated by his cool demeanour, and while he may come across as scary at first, they quickly warm up to him when they catch you scolding him for being rude. If they were to climb all over him, he’d grumble and half-heartedly push them away, wanting nothing to do with their games. However, he can be surprisingly protective over the kids, and if they were to get hurt, he’ll defend them whilst keeping that slightly rough attitude. “Hey, kid, look at me. You wanted to climb that tree, and you fell, man. That’s on you. Just… don’t do it again.” 

Steve Randle:

Steve is the fun babysitter. He’s all about burning off the kid’s energy, running around with them and playing games until they crash. He’ll let them suggest games, and he’ll laugh along with every joke and story. Sometimes, just to give you a break from babysitting, he’ll show the kid his car, teaching them about all the parts and letting them sit behind the wheel. However, he also has a stern side and can enforce rules when they’re really necessary. He isn’t afraid to put his foot down and is pretty good at keeping the kid in control.

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two is a big kid at heart, so he bonds with the child very easily. He’ll goof off, telling funny stories, cracking jokes, and playing any game the kid wants in a way that matches their energy perfectly. He sometimes sneaks them snacks behind your back, telling them to keep it a secret. He isn’t super strict, but he can maintain a certain level of control when its needed. 

[punkeropercyjackson]

Pros of Todomomo:

poc4poc t4t bi4bi autistic4autistic

Shouto and Momo are both canonically cat people and probably go on cat cafe dates together

Momo is taller than Shouto when they grow up(look at the slight height she has over him in the epilogue)

Shouto is the founder of the Momo Hype And Protection Club

Momo constantly verbalizes with no filter how much she loves Shouto just like he does her to break the one-sided het trope curse

Matching sweaters

Goth bf x Pastel gf

Tea lovers so please don't try to tell me they don't make all kinds of tea together,you'll look like BooBoo The Fool

They never got to be real kids so they can discover how to as a team just like they're thee bnha power couple

Boy who only knew the scorching heat of summer and merciless coldness of winter falls for the girl who embodies the soft gooeyness gentless of spring and cozy earthy sweetness of autumn

Girl who had everyone ignore her emotional and even physical needs to an extent growing up falls for boy who messed up one once on complete accident and did a speech in public proclaiming his love admiration for her followed up by looking out for her nonstop even when it inconviences him

Double dates with Minajirou

Red x blue and pink x black

Ghibli movie marathons,picnics far away from the city so they can appreciate nature and monthly homemade care packages

Shouto writing out his feelings for Momo in secret poems and it not hitting until years down the line they were romantic poetry

Momo using 'Anata' for Shouto as soon as they start dating

They look like a peppermint candy and a moon pie as gijinka ship art

Them being hardcore Mcr fans and Momo actually getting Shouto into them

Nonsexual intimacy to the max

Dabi trying to use Momo to get at Shouto by radicalizing her but he ends up genuinely loving her as a little sister and a pseudo-daughter and she sees him as an older brother and a pseudo-dad so he's like 'Well.......Maybe i don't wanna burn the whole world down to spite my dad anymore.I love Peaches more than i hate anyone.Fine,i'll go into rehabilitation but only if you cunts let her visit me every day'

They also take him out for froyo and he teaches Shouto anarchism/direct action too and Momo calls Shouto and Dabi 'her boys' and they give her scary liger and scary panther privileges(also stickerbombs on her face and everything she asks for before she even has time to blink)

Cons of Todomomo:

?

????

????????????

There aren't any,Todomomo is literally the perfect otp

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Lightning On My Lips (Every Time You Kiss Me)

25 - Middle Of A Memory

Pairing: Tyler Owens x OFC Georgia Tennley-Owens

Rating: EXPLICIT (MDNI!)

Warnings: SMUT, truck smut hahaha, protected!piv, dirty talkin' Tyler, almost getting caught, then sad, sorry, mentions of injury (Tyler's)

A/N: Did you think I was gonna leave you hanging with the other two stories? Nah. These are still going to get updated! Delicate will be tomorrow or Thursday and a new chapter for the crossover this week too! These are flashbacks from their rodeo days! And why Georgia left him. I almost thought about writing a prequel for this story, but I'm not that's too many WIPs to have hahaha. As always reblogs, comments, and likes are very appreciated! I love all y'alls feedback! Please enjoy this one, I had fun with it even though it's a little sad at the end!

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03

“Hey, Arkansas.” Tyler heard the barrel racer’s pretty chime of a voice and he thought he might melt. God, he loved when she called him that. 

“Yeah, Peach?” He sauntered over to her, a slight limp in his step. She watched him with concern, but then as he neared, and his hands wrapped around her waist, all the worry left her and she melted into him. 

“I’d like to celebrate your win.” Georgia said, snaking her hands around the back of his neck. His lids lowered and he smirked.

“And how would you like to do that? I mean we’ve got beer in the trailer, unless you want a lil’ summin’ stronger?” Tyler asked, pushing her up against his truck. It was a huge, ancient square bodied Ford, blue with tan and silver pinstripes along the sides and bed. 

“Maybe a shot of somethin’ stronger and I’ve got a lil’ somethin’ in mind but we have to move the truck.” Georgia said, her voice tipped with a lusty undertone that Tyler definitely noticed. His brows raised and he didn’t know his smirk could get any more mischievous, but it did then. They proceeded to, very quickly, put their gear away, Tyler’s bull riding equipment thrown in the bed of his truck and Georgia’s spurs and her saddles chucked into the tack room of her trailer. They locked up her truck and trailer and then hopped in his truck. Tyler grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from the back seat and handed it to Georgia. As he started the engine, she told him where to go so that they were away from the rodeo grounds and in a quiet area where there shouldn’t have been much traffic. It was a turnoff that she’d seen earlier when they’d pulled in that morning and she’d been thinking about it all day and how it would be a perfect place for a couple to make out with each other. 

Tyler pulled the truck over and wedged it as far as he could get it hidden. His heart was absolutely pounding in his chest, knowing exactly what Georgia wanted to do. As he shut the engine off, Georgia opened the bottle of Jack and took a long swig, then handed it to Tyler. He smirked wildly and took a gulp of it, groaning at the burn as it cascaded down his throat. He screwed the cap back on and put it on the dashboard carefully. He hadn’t eaten anything all day so when the whiskey hit, it hit him hard even though it was only a small amount. He felt the world spin and he chuckled as Georgia climbed over the center console and put her legs on either side of his. He pushed the seat back and down as far as possible to give her plenty of room.

“Watch your head, Peach.” He said, reaching up to block her from hitting the back of her head on the roof of the truck. She laughed and leaned down to kiss him, a sloppy and whiskey tainted kiss that hadd Tyler absolutely reeling. His jeans were entirely too tight and he needed them off, now. Georgia could feel him through the denim and it only made her attack his mouth with even more desire. She threaded her fingers through his sandy brown hair and tugged just a little, making Tyler groan in anticipation. 

“Tyler...I want you so bad.” Georgia’s voice lowered an octave and Tyler shifted, thrusting his hips up at her. His hands traveled to the hem of her tank top, pulling it up over her head. His eyes got lost for a moment as he took in her gorgeous breasts, spilling out of the top of her bra. 

“Fuck, Peach, you’re so hot.” He tipped his head down, pressing careful kisses to the swell of her breasts and biting at her nipples through the fabric. Georgia’s fingers dug into the back of his skull, and his hands cupped one tit and her jaw, steadying her as they exchanged breaths. She reached down between them, undoing her belt first and Tyler did his absolute best to help her drag them down her muscular thighs. Those thighs could end him in a heartbeat. They were thick and strong from years of riding lots of horses and he adored them. Her jeans were deposited on the floor and on their way back up, Tyler’s hands took a hold of her ass cheeks and squeezed hard, earning a loud moan from her. 

She unbuckled his belt then, trying her best to keep her lips on his as she helped free his aching cock. He lifted his hips so that she could slide his jeans and boxers down just enough to expose him. He felt instant relief and sighed as he took her lips with his once again. She hovered over him then, his length just brushing against the wetness between her legs. She’d soaked through her panties. 

“Congrats on your big win, Arkansas. Are you ready to accept your prize?” She asked huskily as he popped open the center console. He let loose a nervous laugh as he fumbled for a condom. He knew he had one in there somewhere. She rubbed her cheek against his, awaiting his answer. Her cheeks were such a pretty pink, partially from arousal and partially from how fucking hot it suddenly was inside the cab of the truck. Tyler had begun to sweat and as he found a condom, ripped it open and rolled it onto his cock, he took in the scent of their sex and sweat mingling. It was a musky and heavy scent, tinged with the smell of old leather from their boots and belts that hung in the air and only served to excite them both more. Tyler reached down and pulled her panties to one side and thrust up into her hard. A strangled moan escaped her lips and Tyler grabbed the back of her neck, reeling her back in for a hungry kiss. 

“Ride me, Peach, use me to get’chur self off. That’s the only prize I want right now.” His voice was gravelly as one of his hands reached her jaw again, holding her into a hard kiss. His other hand met her lower back, gently guiding her as she began to move up and down his length. She grasped for purchase on his shoulder and let her fingers drop between their bodies, two digits meeting her clit and rubbing rapid circles. They both couldn’t help the noises that came from their mouths, a mix of heavy breaths and low moans, and Tyler couldn't help the words that fell from his lips. “God, Peach, you feel so fuckin’ good. You’re so good at ridin’ me, doin’ such a good job.”

“Ohhh, Tyler, I’m close...fuck I’m sooo close.” Georgia whimpered, her brows knitting. Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt her orgasm building quickly, the little bit of whiskey now fully fueling her and lighting her body on fire. 

“I know, Gee, I know, I can feel it, You feel so...fuckin’ good...Come for me, darlin’.” Tyler choked on his words as he too felt his release. Georgia’s pussy clamped down on him as she lost her rhythm completely and Tyler was done for right then and there. His cock throbbed and he filled the condom. He saw stars and his whole body tensed as he took over for her, guiding her hips through the waves of her finish. 

“Tyler, Tyler, yes, Tyler, yes, oh my god.” His name sounded like a prayer and he chuckled hearing the twang in her voice with the way she said his name. He fucking loved it. They both ceased all movements then, Tyler breathing a heavy, shuddering sigh. Georgia’s chest heaved and he enjoyed the view, one of her breasts now halfway out of her bra. Tyler couldn’t help himself as he let his lips drop and sucked her nipple into his mouth, causing her tit to fall completely out. Tyler pulled his lips away and then his laugh bellowed through the cab of the truck. His mouth dropped open, the corners of his lips turned up, his long dimples showing. Georgia giggled softly as her hands met his chest. She let a finger open his shirt just a bit more, playing with the light dusting of hair there. 

“Fuck, Gee, that felt...woo...fuckin’ amazin’.” Tyler said softly, his hands squeezing her hips. They’d been so consumed by each other, that they hadn’t seen headlights enter the pull-off. They hadn’t heard anyone get out of the truck and it startled them both when someone knocked on the bed.

“Hey, y’all okay?” They both jumped at the voice. They recognized it. 

“Fuck, Tyler!” Georgia squeaked, as he pulled out of her and  his jeans up awkwardly as they heard the gravel crunching getting closer. Georgia jumped into the passenger seat and Tyler chucked her jeans at her, which she put on as quickly as she could. She tucked her breasts back into her bra and yanked her tank top back on as the person knocked on Tyler’s window. It was Skylar Steele, a roper from the rodeo.

“Hey, Tyler, everythin’ okay? We saw y’all up’n’scoot and didn’t know if somethin’ was wrong.” He said and Tyler shook his head.

“Nah everythin’s fine. Just went out to grab a bottle of whiskey for my win.” Tyler lied and it made Georgia smirk. Skylar leaned against the truck and waved at her.

“Hey, Georgia. Tyler’s pretty impressive, huh?” He asked and Georgia just smiled and said ‘sure is’ and reached over to run her fingers over Tyler’s cheek. 

“Thanks for yur concern, Skylar. We’re all set.” Tyler’s voice got tight and Skylar nodded and wiggle his brows.

“Yup, I see that now. See ya back at the rodeo. Come have some drinks with us if y’all are up to it.” Skylar said as he patted the roof of the truck and then walked back to his truck. Tyler and Georgia waited until he backed out of the pull-off and they both sighed heavily and then laughed.

“Holy shit, Ty.” Georgia leaned back over the center console and kissed him hard, which he graciously accepted.

“That was fuckin’ crazy. We should go back and clean up. I shoved my dick in my pants with the condom still on.” He said and Georgia bit her lip and smirked.

“Did you like your prize?” She asked as she sat back in the seat and he started the truck, adjusting his seat back to where it was drivable. He nodded.

“Best prize ever, Peach.”

🌪️🛻🌪️

One month later.

Tyler was unconscious. He had been for two days. Boone had stayed most of the time, but Georgia had popped in and out as much as she could while taking care of her horses and the girls that she was coaching at that particular rodeo. Boone was quietly sleeping in the chair in the corner of the room when Georgia walked into the room. She frowned and stepped toward the bed, placing her hand over Tyler’s. He didn’t move at all. The whole thing scared the shit out of Georgia. His breathing was the only thing that let her know he was still alive. 

Boone stirred, opening his eyes and rubbing his hands over his face. He yawned and smiled at Georgia.

“Hey, Georgia. He’s still not awake. Hasn’t been. They said they had to put him in a medically induced coma so his brain can heal.” Boone explained and tears stung Georgia’s eyes as she glanced from Boone back to Tyler. The cut on his head had been stitched up. Another scar. Just like the ones on his ribs. On his back. Across his collarbone. His hips. His knees. He was a fucking mess. But she loved him all the same.

“Do they know how long?” She asked quietly and Boone shook his head.

“He’s in pretty bad shape. Pelvis is fractured too. And one of his knees is broke. They said he’s gonna need surgery for both and then it’s gonna be a long recovery.” Boone stood and he placed his hands gently on the bed next to Tyler. Georgia shook her head.

“Boone...I...what do I do? I can’t stay.” She said and Boone’s brow furrowed.

“Whatdoya mean? He’s your boyfriend.” Boone took a breath and it hitched as his stare grew hard. Georgia shook her head in disbelief.

“I can't give up everything for him right now. My whole career...I’ve been working so hard, I can’t just stop.” She said, tears now staining her cheeks as she backed away from the bed a step. She put her hand over her mouth and her jaw worked hard.

“No...you can’t. I get it. So go do what you need to do and then come back. But promise me you’ll come back...for him?” Boone’s brow knit as his gaze settled on the barrel racer. She stepped back over to Tyler and placed a kiss on his lips. 

“I’ll come back. I just don’t know when.” She said, wiping her tears. She wanted to stay longer but the next rodeo was hours away and she had to get on the road. She walked around the bed and Boone pulled her into a tight hug. 

“As long as he knows you’re gonna come back.” Boone said into her shoulder and then Georgia pulled away. 

“Can you just let me know how he is?” She asked and Boone nodded.

“Course. Good luck.” Boone said his tone solemn. 

As Georgia walked down the hall, a sense of dread filled her and she glanced back toward Tyler’s room. In that moment, knowing how much she loved him and how much he loved her, she knew she wanted to return, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she might not.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, with everything that had just happened before she met Tyler...she knew she couldn’t. What if she lost him too? She couldn't bear the thought of losing someone else so soon after her father. She had just gotten to a good place, where she felt like she should go on. How could she risk that and come back to Tyler being crippled? What if he couldn;t rodeo anymore after this? What if this was the one that did him in? What if he had so much brain damage that he didn’t remember her? 

As she continued down the hallway, all of her thoughts terrified her. She couldn’t think of any of it. She left the hospital composed, but as soon as she was safe in her truck, she broke down. Sobbing uncontrollably, she sat there for what felt like hours before she could finally gather herself enough to head back to the rodeo grounds. She’d need to gather up all of her gear and horses from the stalls by herself. She was going to miss having Tyler around. She was going to miss waking up to him every morning. She was going to miss his kisses and touches and his voice. The feeling of his skin against hers and the sounds he made when he fell apart while he was inside her. She was going to miss everything about him. She was alone again, and that felt awful to her. 

It was better to leave now, then get even more attached and get her heart broken all over again. If she did the heart breaking, it wouldn’t be as bad. It wouldn’t sting as much.

A week or so passed, and Georgia hadn’t heard anything from Boone so she went on about her day, getting her horses warmed up for the race that started in about an hour. And that was when she got a text.

Unknown: hey can I call you? Got news about Tyler

She typed back ‘yeah of course’ and waited. Her phone rang almost immediately. 

“Hey, it’s Boone.” 

“Hey. So you have news?”

“Uh, yeah...so, they did the surgeries. He’s got some screws in his pelvis and a plate in his knee. He had some memory loss...they said it’ll either get better or it won’t.” Boone went quiet on the other end of the line and Georgia hung her head.

“Did he...is he awake now?” She asked and Boone made a small noise.

“He was. He’s back asleep. He’s...he’s in a lot of pain, Georgia...like a lot.”

“Did he ask for me?” She asked, as tears stung her eyes. Boone was silent for a few moments and then he spoke softly.

“Georgia...I’m sorry. He didn’t. He doesn’t even know where he is right now. They had to shackle him to the bed because he was tryin’ to leave. He’s...I don’t know...I think it’s gonna be a long road...the doc said his rodeo career is over...”

Georgia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

“I’m sorry, Boone. I love him. I do. But I can’t wait around and hope he remembers me. If he does, have him call me...but I won’t expect it. Just...tell him that I loved him so much and that I’m sorry. I can’t lose someone else. I’m sorry. I’ve lost too much already. It’s better if I walk away now.” Georgia’s voice crackled as she spoke and then she hung up. She stepped down out of the saddle and led Twist back to her trailer. She hugged the mare’s neck and sobbed softly into her mane. 

This was the hardest goodbye she’d ever have to say. This was a harder goodbye than her father because at least she knew he was gone forever. Tyler...Tyler would be out there somewhere, with other people at some point, and maybe thinking of her, but maybe not. He would either remember her or he wouldn’t, and she just wasn’t going to take the chance. There were too many parts of her life left up to chance. This was better as a sure thing. Better that she pushed him out of her mind and focused on her career. 

Take love out of the equation.

[idontevenremember5minutesago]

Mario and Luigi are so fucking cute in brothership that it’s actually giving me cuteness aggression!

[skrunksthatwunk]

this could be kuwameshi if you guys would like. take my hand and trust me

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THE ORDER OF PALMS An order of holy folk that serve The Helm, working to create powerful Aasimar Paladins for the purpose of protecting any who hire their help. [BACKSTORY UNDER CUT]

One day, Gjör and her peers were lead by their mentor Opheria, to a mission far from their home. On the peak of that mountain village, they saw upon the horizon, the castle of their home go up in flames. Horrified and scared, the apprentices sought to follow their mentors guidance, and followed her lead into a small barn. It was there, that Opheria proceeded to slaughter each and everyone of the apprentices. It seemed she somehow had a hand in this sudden attack on the Order of Palms. Gjör D'annevual survived a sword through the 'heart', on account of a rare condition, that places her heart on the other side of her chest. When she finally managed to bring herself back home, the Order was insulted by her survival. She had so many better peers, why couldn't any of them have survived? This runt was seriously the only thing that survived Opherias wrath? It was better to just wash their hands clean of this. Thus the Order decided to banish Gjör from their ranks. She now travels the land in search of a purpose.

[guritahitam]

Anyway, another AU where Doflamingo is adopted with Rocinante by Sengoku.

Except it wasn't an happy adoption but Doflamingo was kidnapped by Sengoku (after a few months Sengoku found Rocinante) and nobody is happy about the situation. Sengoku doesn't want to keep him and he's enough desperate to ask Garp and Tsuru to re-home get rid the little devil, but they say "lmao, you brought him here, now he's your problem."

Jokes on them.

Three old idiots with two traumatized kids, while Doflamingo plays a 3D chess game trying to take his brother away from the marines, passing as one, keeping his baby evil empire afloat on the other side of the world (he still has this dictatorship dream), meanwhile meeting Dragon by mistake deciding to be a sugar daddy (at 13yo) for the Revolutionaries, because he has a big bone to pick with the World Government and surprising being in the marine headquarters worsened his hate.

[urlocalmagicalcat]

nothing will ever describe my life and how I view it as much as Will Stetson’s cover of Unknown Mother Goose